Next stop - Perth!

And so we're off. First to Perth then Johannesburg up to London and finally Toronto. 20 or so days of world travel designed to visit close friends and closer relatives and to put the final cherry on the top of this incredible year.

In our final few Melbourne days, we have managed to pack in a few more events and goodbyes that have really helped to neatly tie up our life down under. A fun dinner with Simon and Alex Davies allowed us thank them again for all of their friendship and support - though we couldn't wrestle the cheque out of Simon's hands! Saturday night we had a pizza dinner with our friends Mark and Kathy Wilson and their kids and made some exciting plans to potentially play host to them when they visit next winter. The boys had a few more playdates with good friends as a last hurrah and we even managed to sneak in Transformers 2 and Ice Age 3 (with Colin's friend Jonah and his family) in the last day or two just because.

The boys wrapped up their Australian school careers with stellar reports and we had a few teary goodbyes with teachers, friends and families.That community has been so welcoming and friendly to our entire family that we made a small donation as way of saying thanks. We are hoping they will put the money toward a world map that will be dedicated to tracking all of the countries represented within the school population. Regardless, the school has been the perfect window or door through which we were fortunate enough to discover a very special group of Melbournians.

Maybe the highlight of the past few days was the 10km Run Melbourne run Linton and I did with her two friends and running mates. The culmination of a lot of training for her and a lot less for me, the run took place on a cool but ultimately glorious Melbourne winter morning and wound its way around the Yarra, the botanical gardens and the MCG. We both managed to shave some significant time off of our previous 10k back in October and in many ways it was a fitting way to say goodbye to this adopted home - beautiful weather, a challenging run with friends, over and around many of the iconic landmarks in the city. The sense of accomplishment was two-fold: it felt like a run and a year, well done.

As my final attempt to log and blog a few more classic Aussieisms, I wanted to sum up our year (just for fun) as the most "old school" Australian might, if he (or she) spoke in just a few of the many, many classic expressions that have kept us on our toes over the year. So, here is a final salute to the wonderfully quirky Aussie slang.

Yeah, look. I mean, I'm no bludger but I really enjoyed the chance to wag work, mate. Uni was heaps of fun and I'm pretty sure I didn't cark it. At times we found the tucker a bit shonky, but when we weren't up for a pie and a pot, there was still a Tim Tam and a long black that could get me quite chuffed, mate. The footy has been ripper and them blokes love a good stoush. Look, you can't be no chook in the ruck, mate, and I was just as happy to barrack for the Hawks from the sidelines with 0ne hand in the esky reaching for another tinny of VB. Though we may miss talking about rubbish or jumpers when we return to Canada mate, and I really wouldn't mind driving a ute, we certainly won't miss the blowies. But we will definitely whinge a bit next winter when its cold and our thoughts turn to thongs, bathers and making like a shark biscuit at the beach. We will also miss, in the land of no worries, the servos and salvos, and all the other words them blokes like to end in os. I mean, yeah look, at times I felt a bit crook, almost wanted to spit the dummy when a popsicle became an icey pole and a pepper had to be a capsicum. Down the track we won't miss the ads on the telly for Harvey Norman's stock take sale neither, mate. But at the end of the day, mate, we still have to say good on'ya Oz. It's been fair dinkum. Let us shout a round to you! Tah.

Moving on through metaphor

I had a dream the other night that upon further review might neatly sum up my state of mind about the end of this Australian odyssey. In my dream, I was on a tram when suddenly the driver decided he had done enough driving and jumped off. Of course, I volunteered to keep the tram, full of people, running. Driving the thing was relatively easy, it was the stopping that gave me fits. As each station came into view I applied the brakes (God knows how I knew which lever to pull) but despite my increasingly frantic and powerful pulls on the brake lever, the tram would stubbornly slide by the stop every time. People started yelling and pleading with me to stop the tram better and sooner but no matter what I did or how hard I pulled, the tram just kept sliding by stop after stop…Now, by putting on my English teacher’s hat or perhaps opening my psychiatrist’s note pad, I wonder if this dream is really my subconscious telling me about the inevitability of our return to Canada. No matter how hard I want time to slow down or stop - the tram is on track, on schedule and not even a Herculean crank on the ol’ brake lever can stop this train from leaving the station!


A second event with equal potential for metaphorical significance took place the other day as we enjoyed our last pizza and movie night. You see, every Thursday night for the past year, we have indulged ourselves in pizza (frozen) and a video from the local independent video store guy. I’m not sure how the tradition came about, it doesn’t matter, but I do remember that at the time it seemed like a good way of creating something fun that we could all look forward to as a family that might, in a way, protect us from any disappointments or difficulties the week may have presented. It’s not something we do at home in Canada and though certainly not beluga caviar and a glass of Dom, it has always felt a tad indulgent – like this entire year. And so again with my teacher’s hat firmly in place I heard something significant in Colin’s announcement last week that this would be “the last pizza and movie night”. Alas, was this a sign from somewhere that all the indulgences of the past year were also over? Did I hear the faint tolling of a bell signifying the end of a year of living…not dangerously…but maybe just a little more carefree? Would two margharita pizzas washed down with a frosty Pure Blonde in front of the latest Pixar goldmine ever taste the same again? Was this big, fat pizza party coming to an end?


My final foray into this metaphorical minefield is perhaps the biggest stretch of the three, but hey, I’m on a roll. The other day Lint and I found ourselves doing some last minute personal retail therapy at the DFO which is a sort of giant factory outlet mall right beside the Southern Cross rail station in downtown Melbourne. As we were scarfing down some mediocre Chinese food, she looked down to notice with horror that her Pandora charm bracelet was not on her wrist! This was bad. In a panic we proceeded to ask at every store we had been in and to re-trace our steps a thousand times in our head, only to realize with growing dread that if it wasn’t at home then it was gone. The bracelet had been a surprise Christmas gift from me to her and it had begun to accumulate some real significance with charms we had bought or she had been given. Of course, my thoughts were focused on the cost whereas Lint’s were elsewhere. She was focused, quite rightly, on what the bracelet had come to represent – call it a multi-layered metaphor for the entire year’s experience. In my attempt to make the best of a bad situation, I offered that we could always replace it. But Lint said no. She didn’t want to replace it. It was a one-time piece and all significance would be lost on a surrogate purchase back in Canada. And this is really where my final metaphorical marker kicks in.


This year, like that bracelet, has been a one-time thing made up of a series of experiences that will forever remain perfect and poignant because they happened or we made them happen in life’s daily adventure. These same “charms” may be replaced, repeated or even purchased by some, but the buyer will always know, deep down, how real or meaningful they are. The real significant charms come the first time; that first moment when you see newness and perspective you could have never before imagined. And for us, those are the indelible bits of insight and memory that have been etched forever into our charmed Aussie life. They are priceless and irreplaceable and will remain with us, even when the t-shirts fade, the posters rip and the boomerangs stop boomeranging.

PS – We found the bracelet at home. Which as I write this, makes me think there is meaning there, too – but I’ll save that thought for another day.

More June celebrations!

On the 14th, I had a wonderfully lazy and heart-stoppingly perfect birthday celebration complete with presents, a pavlova cake and eggs benedict at one of the many Rathdowne cafes. Showered with thoughtful cards, a local designer book bag and my very own i-Pod I felt lucky and truly spoiled.

On the 18th we hosted about 20 of our new found friends for a "shout' of thanks at the Great Northern Hotel. We bought a round and nibblies for everyone and enjoyed bringing together all of the people we have met through the kids' school as well as the surrounding neigbourhood. More people came and stayed longer than we expected and we were so happy to offer a more proper goodbye to some of the very kind and friendly folk we can now call friends.

The 20th was Colin's family birthday and we finally managed to follow up on a promise of taking the boys to Melbourne's version of Coney Island - Luna Park. We hit it early and often and despite a few touch and go moments on the swinging boat for Lint, there were no major nausea incidents. The bumper cars, ghost train and the ancient wooden roller coaster that still has the brakeman standing in the middle of the cars(!) were highlights. After the park I dragged the family over to walk the historic St. Kilda Pier for our daily dose of - cultcha! A hot chocolate in the great cafe at the tip of the pier warmed our chilled bones and the tram ride home was a quick and quiet affair as we dosed our way back up Lygon.

And finally, on the 21st, we celebrated Father's Day. It is not actually Father's Day in Australia (that happens in September) but the family was nice enough to give me a Hawthorn Hawks t-shirt and, even better, we played nine holes of golf together as a family! Hooray! What a neat experience. We had the course to ourselves which allowed Al to swing away as much as he wanted while the rest of us played a little more by the rules. Colin's swing is amazing and with the right sized clubs he could be an excellent golfer. Lint hit the ball well all day long and I was my usual inconsistent self.

Just four more days and ways we continue to build some incredible Melbourne memories.

A final ramble about place and perspective

As a footnote to my earlier blog about belonging to a place, I wanted to offer Rex Murphy’s take on the matter. Recently he voiced some profoundly poignant words in an editorial about Michael Ignatieff and his 30 year absence. As always, Mr. Murphy has found a way to say it far more elegantly than I ever could. He writes:

Idle moments teach and mould us in their way even more than crises. We grow into our real knowledge of a place and a people through the thousand unmarked interactions of the everyday and the commonplace. The sense of belonging is an accumulation of ordinary experiences not marked as they pass. Who we are with and where we are with them is very much who we are.

There is a kind of knowledge about a people and a country that depends on continuity of encounter that is more a reflex of sensibility than an acquisition. Being away so long, does he (Ignatieff) have that reflex? For it is a knowledge that cannot be strapped on - to be acquired, it must be lived. Knowledge is second-hand, meaning is experienced. Living shared experience is the absolute DNA of full citizenship.

I like so much of this. The notion of being shaped by the “everyday”. The idea that continuity has something to do with knowing and understanding – perhaps fully. The brilliant point that “meaning is experienced” and knowledge often comes to us “second-hand”. These very quotable and apt observations on the subject of citizenship not only bring Ignatieff’s qualifications into a vague sort of question, but they also make more sense of our experiences in this year abroad.

And if I admit to agreeing with Rex’s ideas, as I do, then I would also have to admit that though we are more comfortable now in Australia than we were two, three or even six months ago, we are still only scratching the surface in terms of accumulating our local “DNA”. It’s not enough to share one season, one event, one game. In order to really know a culture or understand a people you need to live and breathe the many and various ebbs and flows of life over a much longer period of time.

Interestingly, an editorial in today’s local paper makes this same observation in relation to the recent accusations of racism directed at pockets within Australian society. The article documents the Australian “whites only” immigration policy that in its own proper historical context represents so much more than what is at first glance an outrageous and extremist piece of public policy. Without context and a connection to why this policy originally existed and its relatively laudable intentions, then I would never be able to understand the current state of society with anything more than complete contempt. But we need to know what we do not know so that we do not believe the first, the superficial, or the one most repeated to be the only version of the truth; a trap into which any temporary resident might fall.

We are now citizen enough to know that Australia is more than an Opera House, a big red rock or the Wiggles. We have seen enough and read enough to know why things are the way they are, right now, but we continue to lack the base, the foundation of a deeper understanding, because as Rex has said, those are the things that cannot simply be “strapped on”. Alas, we are leaving now and that knowledge has not been nor can it be acquired, tucked safely into a carry on. We know what we know; no more, no less. To know more might take a lifetime. Or at least thirty years.

Still More Catching Up

The other week Colin practiced with a local footy team. A couple of his friends play on the Clifton Hill club and one of the boy's fathers coaches the team, so after a little bit of prodding from yours truly he went for it and I went along for the ride. Of course, it happened to be one of the coldest and wettest nights of the winter so far, but he was game and did very well. He has really taken to the game as we've mentioned before and despite not having played nearly as much as the other kids, has a natural understanding of what needs to happen on the field. Combine that with the daily rigours of belting the ball around the playground at recess and lunch and he fits right in. On this night he even had an ex-AFL player helping to coach the side. In spite of all of this, he decided not to try it again, though he continues to enjoy playing on the courts of tennis and basketball.

Both Colin and Alex have had school assemblies recently and both have played a starring role. At each assembly kids from various classes are recognized with merit awards for doing something notable in class and both boys helped to hand out these awards. In Alex's case he got to do it with one of his best friends and he did it very well! In Colin's class, he also had a chance to dress up and present part of his unit on public speaking. He was way cool in trench coat and sunglasses and did his drama teaching father proud with a fine performance.

Last Friday was a curriculum or PD day so we took the opportunity to return to Melbourne's version of the Science Centre where they had just opened a Star Wars exhibit. Fortunately, a friend of ours offered to drive, (his son and Alex are good friends in the same class) and so we headed out over the West Gate Bridge to Spotswood and a rendezvous with Yoda and Darth.

The place was beyond packed and it felt like they had already started to suck the oxygen out within minutes of our arrival. After letting the boys run wild for awhile, it was finally our turn to tour the exhibit which turned out to be quite cool. Along with seeing real or replica versions of the costumes and props used in the various movies, there were a lot of opportunities to apply the technology to real learning. The boys played with a programmable robot while the rest of us wandered amidst the C3PO and Chewbacca models and when it was all over we miraculously avoided parting with cash in the grossly over-priced gift store.

On Saturday, we joined two families for an extremely generous farewell dinner at a local Italian restaurant - that was not La Porchetta. Linton has become quite good mates and running partners with the two moms and their kids are or have been in Colin's and Alex's classes at school. As a small gesture toward their friendship and kindness, Lint gave both women running tops from Canada's own Lululemon. While the adults enjoyed several lovely bottles of BYO wine over nice conversation, the six kids present were engaged in a high stakes round of Nintendo. It was perhaps not what we did as kids when out on the town with mom and dad, but then again, we managed to stay at the restaurant for three hours, enjoying the company of new friends and for that I am truly thankful for a little help from our electronic friends. More importantly, I am thankful for the warm gesture. Realizing we have made friends with people who care about us and who seem sad to see us leave is a very comforting feeling. They like us, they really like us!

The Trouble with "Near" and "Far"

My favourite character from Sesame Street is Grover. I don’t know if it’s his gangly blue frame or his grovelly voice or just some of the fun and funky things he says and does but he’s my fave – although Bert is a close second and Elmo just ruined everything. Maybe Grover’s best skit is his very simple demonstration of near and far. In it, he runs up to the camera saying “This is near” and then turns and runs into the distance turning to the camera saying “And this is far” and then repeats the whole thing. I love it for its simplicity and Grover’s manic, earnest and ever-tiring need to get us all to physically understand the difference and the distance between the two.

Why do I bring up Grover? Well, recently Linton and I have noticed a strange sort of disconnect between our own lives here (near) and the lives of those living back home (far). One of the things that I think is going on is that – at least from this highly egocentric point of view – when you embark on a major life adventure such as ours, you tend to think that by the very virtue of its uniqueness, you will remain top-of-mind for people back home. In point of fact, I think the opposite occurs. While we think our news, dates and travels are of the utmost importance, we forget that to everyone else back home, who have busy lives with their own news, dates and travels, we are in fact – by virtue of some sort of abstract distance-time-continuum – people without portfolio. There is quite simply something about being “far” away that makes one less real or relevant than when “near”.

We were talking about this over coffee the other day while we reflected on the fact that many people we have told about our return dates have, a few weeks later, asked two or three more times about our return dates! We laughed that maybe it was just us – the slackers with all the time on our hands being able to worry about mundane things like return dates, buying shoelaces or a second cousin’s birthday. Or maybe Lint’s super-planner genes were infecting us both and while we knew what we would be doing on the third Tuesday in July, we were surprised to hear that others back home did not. Or maybe, quite simply, our emails aren’t quite as gripping a read as we thought.

Whatever the reason, and it’s really not all that important, we’ve noticed that for some people despite the explosion and complete immersion of the digital age – with Skype and all its buddies – some people still seem only able to connect with another person when that person is standing in the same room (or in the case of Grover – “Near”). Otherwise, the few thousand kilometers and several days of travel time create a barrier between the person and the reality of the life living far away that prevents events, dates, and experiences from actually existing in the present. In some ways as Linton has said, it’s almost as if some people are saying “I won’t bother connecting ‘til their back because, who knows they may choose to stay! When they’re back and officially within touch of my own reality, then I will re-connect."

This is no rant. Without a doubt we are guilty of the same sort of priority-by-proximity thinking and I’m sure it sounds like my insecurities are getting the better of me, but I still think there is something about distance that changes relationship and which technology cannot yet capture or provide for some people. Certainly, the virtual hug of Skype and the primitive phone call with a clear connection and no delay are wonders of the modern world, but what still can’t be removed is all that space or "far-ness" in Grover parlance. What it ultimately means is that we are all as significant to the day-to-day reality of a distant loved one as the weather in Siberia or a civil war in Turkmenistan because, like an infinite number of other things going on around the world that we have no hope in having any effect on (thankfully in many cases) - the lives of the far away "Grovers" are completely out of touch of our hands.

This might also sound a lot like sour grapes. After all, didn’t we pick up stakes and move down under to try on a new life – with new friends, experiences, etc? Why then would we be so concerned about the prospect of not being "on the radar" back home? Well, I’m not. I don’t think. I just think it’s interesting that distance seems to create a void or a barrier or a delay between people that I don’t think exists to the same degree when you live just around the corner…

Maybe Grover had it right all along. Near and far are very different and they take some effort to bridge. When you’re near and in another person’s tv screen or face you are by default in their life, too; whereas, when you’re “far” it’s very hard to reach out and connect with people because there’s a tonne of space and a few billion other people in between. We are just now beginning our own run back to "near", and that impending reality is leaving us, like Grover, breathless.

June 8-9 Canberra - Part 2

Day 2 saw us up early - before most of Canberra had even thought about church - and with a bowl of Cheerios in our bellies we were out onto the open roads in search of the National Museum of Australia. Another brilliantly free venue, this amazing feat of modern day architecture was a wonder to behold. Built in 2006 (I think) on the shores of Lake Burley Griffin, the museum's numerous galleries are designed to tell the continent's story from any number of fascinating angles. The Aboriginal story, Linton's favourite part, is told in rich detail with many, many artifacts effectively and ingenously displayed. In fact, that was the thing about the museum that really impressed me - the thought and layout of the incredible displays. From an exhibit chronicling the experiences of Australia's earliest immigrants to a computer program that allows kids to build 3-D houses of the future to Phar Lap's actual heart (yuck!) we wandered aimlessly through the maze of information, happy to get lost in the lively history of it all. Most of the time we were just able to keep track of the kids as they raced wide-eyed to the next cool encounter.

In spite of a minor coffee debacle on our way out, we were effectively "stoked' by the day's first experience and bundled into the car eager for our next stop - the National Dinosaur Museum. Unfortunately, it was a major let down, at least for this jaded and self-appointed dinosaur expert. Feeling more like Hal and Edna's dinosaur emporium rather than a real museum, this tired and rather stale venue left me feeling "dirty". It was one of those experiences that you absolutely know is a complete and total rip off, happily preying on the dumb tourists with kids who almost don't have a choice. Beautifully, the kids don't see that or feel that, and for Alex at least it was still "pretty good". I did my best to remain interested though the cheesy couches with the drapes thrown over them and the dim cafeteria with its broken down pinball machines made me feel like I was paying to hangout in someone's rec room.

Moving on, we crossed the street to experience our first miniature village and though this too, was the utmost in hokey - it was a better form of hokey. The kids loved checking out the miniature buildings and pressing the countless buttons. Though I was still dealing with my lingering contempt for the dinosaur display, their enthusiasm for this simple novelty attraction was infectious and once again, I was shown up by my kids in terms of finding the positives to life and tourist attractions. If I can just shut off my own very adult and unrealitstically low tolerance for those things that are not, at first blush, appealing to me - then the world could be a far more fun and fascinating place. I'm not sure why I can't get that through my ever thickening head.

With the relative success of the miniature village fresh in our collective of heads, and with the hour still relatively young, I was intent on subjecting everyone to one more attraction - the National War Memorial. I had heard that this was a not-to-be-missed feature of any self-respecting Canberra visit and we were not disappointed. The place is huge and everything about it is done with the utmost respect and detail. Australia has a enormous place in its history and its heart for its "diggers" and things like ANZAC day and Gallipoli continue to resonate in the lives of all Australians. They are immensely proud of their contributions to any number of conflicts around the world and this museum does that sacrifice proud. There had to have been 40 or 50 of the most compelling and detailed diaoramas re-telling the stories behind all of the major battles of which the Aussies were a part.

There was a particuarly well done area for kids with re-creations of trenches and submarines and even a full scale helicopter. The kids, along with a few hundred other kids, had a fabulous time checking radar, steering the sub, looking "over the top" and playing soldier. I guess that sounds a bit strange but it felt like a safe place to start our guys thinking about what will eventually be a much more difficult conversation. And speaking of difficult conversations, I had one with one of the volunteers in the exhibit who first of all mistook me for an American and made some disparaging comment about the Yanks' lack of effort in WWI. Then, when I pointed out that the Canadians were in the trenches 2 years before the Aussies even got there, he continued to try and jam his Australian version of the facts down my throat. I wasn't up for the challenge and didn't see much point in arguing with a patriotic volunteer, but I did leave feeling that somehow his pride was getting in the way of the facts. Indeed, there have been a few moments like this one when it felt like Australians were too desperate to distinguish themselves as being both unique and competitive on the world's stage. Then again, like a good Canadian, I cringe at the first whiff of any type of nationalistic fervour. Maybe I should have taken him on...

Anyway, we were pleasantly pooped after the Memorial and headed back to our hotel for a little "chillaxin'", a pasta dinner and a touch of room service. After a nice homey meal, I was feeling content and at peace with our trip, even though Colin was kicking my butt at Trivial Pursuit. We had finally seen enough artifacts and institutions to feel like we actually knew something about this great land and our imminent departure could now occur with few regrets. And yet, though it will only be home for a few more days, the fact that I have gained a greater appreciation for the country as whole and a home may in fact, make leaving that much more bittersweet. And that's a good thing!