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!

June 6-7 Canberra - Part 1

About five hours into our return trip from Canberra, I said something to the kids about being only two hours from home. It was part of my lame attempt to stave off their growing boredom (mine, too) and to keep things in the back seat "positive". Their reaction to my update was as desired, but I was also taken by their seeming enthusiasm for the notion of coming home. Many times over the course of this year, I have often caught myself when I said the word home, wondering if it needed a clarifier like our "Melbourne home" or our "home away from home". However, most of the time and this time included, the reference to home was accepted without question or correction - we were heading to our home (in Melbourne) and that was good enough for them. Of course, recently the talk has centered more on our other home, our "real" home, and that topic has also generated all kinds of enthusiastic discussion. Yet I wonder, when it comes right down to it, if the notion of home merely applies to that place where you most often sleep, eat, live and by a strange sort of "squatter's rights" scenario, one's home becomes the place where you've done the most living, most recently...Regardless, we are about to be moving homes again and the anticipation is enough to make even me ask, "Are we there yet?"

Our trip to Canberra, was by design, an attempt to keep our minds and bodies in the present and in that and many other respects it was a roaring success. The drive was long - about 650kms or 7 hours, but there was little traffic and with Nintendo's fully charged and a planned lunch stop at Rotten Ronny's - we might have gone a lot further had our bladders not also been full. It was otherwise uneventful and even though we were armed with the best directions Mapquest could muster, there were really only three turns necessary before we were drving down mainstreet Canberra.

As Australia's eighth largest city and the largest inland city in the country, Canberra is an interesting study in urban planning. Built in 1913, the city was planned by an American and chosen as a capital in order to quell the rivalry between Sydney and Melbourne. The city is laid out in a spoke and wheel pattern as opposed to a grid system and is known as the "bush capital" due to its many gardens and parks. It is quite a beautiful city and is home to many, many national galleries, museums and memorials and we were there to enjoy as many as time would allow.

Our hotel was conveniently located on Northbourne Ave on the "northside" of the city and a short walk to all the action. Due to the long drive we "chilled" at the hotel with a swim in the shoebox of a pool and then went downtown looking for grub. We had been putting off eating at this chain called the Hogs Breath Cafe due to its tacky ads and tackier food - but with hunger high and energy low we finally gave in...we should have held out. Slow is not the word for the kitchen and it took an hour to get things like fish and chips and a salad. With the exception of an equally grim meal in Lorne, this might have ranked as the worst meal in Oz!

Next morning we were up and at'tem and off to our first stop - the Australian Institute of Sport. A huge federally funded campus, the Institute selects and trains Australia's best and brightest sports talents in an effort to win more Olympic medals and bring more athletic glory to this sports mad nation. We had a great tour guide who was half Canadian - his mother is from Edmonton - and we were impressed with the nine year old gymnasts vaulting through space and the 17 million dollar swimming pool. We were also aghast at a typo on one of the displays that suggested an Australian skier had won her bronze medal at the Olympics in Albertville, Canada! We felt somewhat vindicated by the fact that we might not win as many medals as the Aussies, but at least we know where the Olympics were held. Sheesh!

Then we were off downtown to the southside of the city and across beautiful Lake Burley Griffin. The strangely modern and striking parliament buildings stand as a beacon from whatever vantage point you take in the city and we had a wonderful view of them as we made the turn for Questacon - Canberra's answer to the Ontario Science Centre. Alex was beside himself with excitement as this was the place he had been looking forward to for several weeks. Built as a stand alone science centre, the building is new and very modern and does not have the 1970s hangover that lingers throughout Toronto's centre.

Our first stop, after the requisite dinosaur exhibit, was an area known as the Sideshow which had among other cool things, a 6.7 metre free fall that gives one the impression they are - falling 6.7 metres straight down. Needless to say the parents were not in, but the kids gamely strapped on the jumpsuits and headed for the high bar. After a moment or two of hesitation Colin plummeted safely back to earth, but when it was Allie's turn, common sense got the better of him and he bailed. Frankly, I was amazed he even climbed the stairs and after a few tears of fear, he was able to shake it off and enjoy himself immensely. The rest of the time was spent learning how not to be eaten by crocs, experiencing a "real" earthquake, and riding a virtual roller coaster. This place would rate highly on both boys' Rate-the-Weekend review.

Dinner on this night would be Chinese, as it always is when we are trying to avoid battered or fried. The place was packed and I think they had good food but the combination of Alex being in a bit of a funk and my lame ordering and all we could think about was bed. It was a fun first day in Canberra and we settled into a rental movie that night, comfortable in the knowledge that tomorrow's attractions looked to be equally cool and many were for freeeeeeeeee....! (Sorry, inside family joke - unless you've seen the movie Bedtime Stories)

Coughing our way to Canberra

Tomorrow we're off to the nation's capital - Canberra in the ACT(Australian Capital Territory) for our final Australian adventure. For one or two mad minutes we toyed with the idea of blasting back up to the Gold Coast for a little more glorious beach time, but the decadence metre was off the charts on that one and so we are staying a little closer to home - a mere 8 hour drive - and seeing a place that gets mixed reviews from all we ask. Some say it's as boring as watching paint dry on a cricket pitch, others have said it can be a great town, and surprisingly still others have never been. We are quite happy for the diversion in these final, rather slow days in Oz, and the more I think about it, the more fitting it seems to be ending our Aussie adventure with a trip to the place which might be best able to teach us the most.

I wonder why we don't have a similar capital area in Canada like Washington, D.C. or the ACT. Such an extra state or province, might have gone a long way toward getting rid of the some of the self-serving regionalism that so often plagues our politics. Or maybe not. The folks in Victoria have it in for their neighbours up in New South Wales, much the same way the BC Nation would like to think Ontario deserves everything it does not get. Regional squabbling would seem to be alive and well wherever you go and speaking of going places - with this trip and our fly through Perth on the way home, we will have visited all 8 states in the country. Something few Australians have done and something of which I am bizarrely proud. Also makes me want to knock off Nunavut and the Northwest Territory in order to complete a similar sweep at home.

Anyway, as I said, this trip is coming at a good time. I am officially finished my Masters program with a few marks yet to come in, and we are in full pack up mode around the house. The weather has turned damp and grey, a sort of late October feeling without the frost, and everyone it seems has a sniffle a wheeze or a hack. Swine flu has this country gripped with fear and Victoria seems to be taking the brunt of it. The regional bickering has even managed to find its way into this debate with Sydney-siders avoiding Melbourne in droves thinking we are all living with the plague. Bizarre stuff and all things which are making us increasingly itchy to get out of here for a few days.

Indeed, the swine flu and a recent and very unfortunate spate of violence against Indian students, are two more moments in this city's present day history that are teaching us so much about what it means to live in this distant island nation. As we have already experienced, they are rightly vigilent about virulent strains of anything entering their country and you don't have to have had a beagle sniff your crotch to know that. Though we can't speak for the rest of the world, and maybe we've been conditioned by SARS to have a little bit more of a que sera sera attitude, the Australians (or maybe it's just the media) are freaking out about swine flu, even in the face of local and worldwide statistics that don't support such enthusiasm. Of course the authorities need to do or to be seen doing all the right things, but I am still waiting for someone to report the fact that it's not really killing anyone, any more than any other flu, or the drunken brawls in the CBD on any given Saturday night.

The Indian attacks are for me, as an outsider, a far more troubling reality because they are coming very close to killing people and the symptoms of the disease have been born right here in Melbourne. Every city has its racial tensions and no city is immune to violence between ethnic groups, but for some reason there is a loose lawlessness pervading the dark corners of this city that continues to ruin its reputation. The drunken all hours brawling in the downtown core, the bikers (bikies) with their daylight hits, the underworld and mob influence that simmers behind the political lines, and these recent random muggings all lend an air of intolerance that stands in stark contrast to the artistic and athletic centre-of-the-world that Melbourne certainly is. There has been no explanation for why Indians and why so many attacks lately, but for this amateur sociologist the recent assaults may stem from a combination of worsening economy, isolationist tradition, and a city that is reaching its breaking point in terms of cultural assimilation.

And so we have loaded up our coughs and kleenex, eager to beat a retreat from the troubles that have added some weight to recent grey, May days. It's a long way to go, but we four are excited. Partly because the travel has become a favourite part of the adventure and we feel the need to "stretch our legs", but also because in Canberra we see an opportunity to shed new light on a country that continues to astound and amaze with every passing day.

Footy, friends and playdates - oh my!

Last Sunday we took five of Colin's friends to the "G" for an early friends birthday party. The Hawthorn Hawks were playing the Melbourne Demons and this seemed like an excellent way to celebrate one's impending 10th birthday. Needless to say this household has become a bit obssessed with footy! We have the hats, the scarves, the shirts, the cards, the posters and a thorough knowledge of most of the players in the 16 team league. We also know which coaches are in danger of losing their jobs, who is hurt, what their injury is and when we can expect them to be back on the pitch. Going even deeper - we know what clubs are in trouble financially, where players like to go out, and which player marriages are on the rocks. We might even admit to knowing a few players' scoring average per game in odd days of the month when the wind is blowing from the north at night. I'm not sure the good ol' CFL will ever look the same again.

Footy players and sports stars in general are minor-royalty in this town and as goes your team's fortunes on the field, so goes the mood of the nation - or the suburb that you barrack for. Unfortunately, there's been no lack of bad behaviour recently, particularly in the rugby league circles, and at the core of it is a drinking culture and a set of mores that generate a lack of respect for women by young men. And the officials in charge of picking up the pieces after each embarrassment can't seem to get it right, often pouring more fuel on the fire by saying things that could be construed as nothing better than a lacklustre "Boys will be boys" defence. There are no lack of footy shows on the telly, with pudgy old guys stuffed into bad suits, decrying the end of the "golden era" and the fact that the entertainment is being taken out of the game by rule changes and restrictions on what players can and cannot do. It doesn't take too much imagination to equate these complaints with a desire to return to the good old days when men were men and to the winners went the women, I mean the spoils.

Anyway, it is still a fantastic game and an even better spectator sport and so it was with great enthusiasm that we boarded the Toorak Tram and headed for the MCG. Perhaps, a little too much enthusiasm. We knew from the outset that this was going to be a "full on" adventure and several parents congratulated us on our bravery. I even had a nap earlier in the day to prepare myself. Undaunted by the challenge and in preparation for the big game and party we painted our faces in team colours, filled loot bags with team bouncy balls and footy cards, gave Colin his very own Hawthorn guernsey, and ordered mudcakes for the post-game celebration. Though not quite at the scale of our highly successful Hallowe'en Party, we were ready to give this party "a go".

I must admit that these types of activities are not my favourite events in the annals of parenting and regardless of whether it is one or one hundred of the nicest kids in the world, I struggle to be at my best. I suppose if they all walked and talked like angels and did everything I asked in the right manner and at the right time then maybe I would react differently - but of course that's as likely as my head suddenly deciding to reverse the hair loss! The adventure as a whole was fine, and apart from the need to ask all of them to calm down, be quieter, wait their turn, not kick the seat in front of them, not climb on things, stop punching each other, pass don't take, slow down, hurry up, watch the tram, say your sorry, don't swear, say please, say thank you, and have fun, but not too much - I think the party was a success. Do you think I was asking too much? Regardless of my impossibly high standards of deportment I think everyone had a good time and Colin received some very nice gifts (including footy ball, scarf and video) from his friends.

The energy of boys continues to amaze me and in spite of my own puerile complaints, increasingly sensitive ears, and diminishing tolerance for chaos, I am fascinated by the exhuberance of youth at hand. The wonderfully reckless abandon with which they throw themselves into things like footy games and playdates is inspiring, energizing, scary, and trying. It's enough to make one feel very old and very young all at the same time. It also makes me wonder when the last time I ever did anything with the kind of energy and passion that a ten year old is capable of. Linking all of that youthful enthusiasm to the aforementioned and not so savoury hijinks of the men ten years their senior, I continue to wonder how you raise boys in a way that retains their energy but directs it, just enough, to be productive and responsible. I think the trick might be to stay "in the game" as long as you can, modeling and mentoring all the right moves. By parking yourself on the sidelines too soon, you leave them no choice but to look out and up to others who just may have forgotten the rules. Parenting and playdates, it would seem, are rarely spectator sports.

"Looking back home" with Iggy

At the risk of turning this travelogue into a political op-ed piece, this entry was inspired by the recent ridiculousness coming out of our nation's capital. Stephen Harper’s recent attack ads on Michael Ignatieff’s 34 year absence from Canada has got me thinking about the effect of being away from one’s country and whether or not it really is a good or a bad thing for anybody - from aspiring prime minister to a guy doing his masters. What do we lose by moving away?

It’s a strange thing indeed, call it the traveler’s paradox – the notion that we learn more about what it means to be a member of a nation by being away or removed from it. Some might say if you truly want to get to know a country you need to travel from tip to tail, or coast to coast in order to soak up all that defines its many people and regions. However, I would also say, on top of the coast to coast stuff, one need also to get in a boat on one of those coasts and sail off to faraway lands in order to then land and look back. The perspective that comes from standing somewhere new, is at once bracing and brilliant because of the life it forces you to consider right under your feet – a reality that your mind simply could not fathom before it actually sees it, stands on it. It is a place altogether different from one’s own and it is full of lessons for the willing and observant traveler. But does that perspective come with a cost?

Though we have not been away from Canada for very long, there is something in my own shifting perspective that makes me wonder if there isn’t something at the very core of Harper’s small-minded complaint that might actually be true. While away we have immersed ourselves in a new culture and have tried very hard to understand it, accept it, and grow within it. In doing so, Canada and its ongoing relevancy has taken a firm backseat to the world that opens up to us every day just outside our front door. And while we are, of course, interested in friends and family and whether or not the Habs were going to make the playoffs, there is a certain sense of disconnection one feels from home-based concerns because there is simply very little one can do to affect their outcome. (I used to think simply by watching the game, I could help the Habs win….) It really makes me question how an academic like Ignatieff could hold Canada in his head and heart for so long.

Of course, the reverse of Ignatieff’s self-imposed academic exile can also be seen in the homebody attitudes of people like Stephen Harper. His belief in the trilogy of faith, family, and fatherland must be attractive to those who have not had the chance or taken the opportunity to peer across a border. In his world foreign countries are strange faraway lands where we only need go to fight wars, negotiate trades or to bring home hockey trophies. Personally, I think the CPC is so paranoid about finding that it is relatively alone in the world of political ideology that it doesn't dare go anywhere that might conflict with its antiquated view. Thus, Harper pulls up our borders, stifles the media, scrunches up his shoulders to block out the socialist din, and stays at home because home is good enough. It is an unsustainable model in the new global community and a leadership style that I predict will be shown the door very soon in Canada.

Which brings me back to Ignatieff. There is no doubt that he is intelligent and has that je ne sais quoi that Stephane Dion lacked. He is also an accomplished world traveler with bags and bags of experience looking out into the world and learning what other good people are capable of. As Linton so aptly put it, “What does it matter where he has lived his life as long as he has integrity and governs well?” Which immediately makes much sense. And yet, there is a little niggling red flag in the back of my mind for which I have the Harper attack ads to thank. If you are indeed about true partriot love, why haven’t you spent your time in Brampton, Moose Jaw, or Goose Bay? Or am I just another pawn in the constant "spin" of the electorate?

I do think it's a shame more Canadians can’t find what they are looking for within our borders, but to say that is to deny the many that do. And maybe that’s where I’m missing the point altogether. Canada is indeed a great country, made great by the fact that we are so willingly a collective of other nations and attitudes. And because of that greatness, that sense of strength and pride we gleen from our heritage, we are empowered to venture out into the world to explore, to study, to live and to grow - safe in the knowledge that we have a perspective that’s been expertly honed at home - teaching us to be open and accepting of all we may find. Maybe, just knowing enough about one's own country is, in fact, enough.

And yet still, this year tells me there is a distinct benefit to "looking back" from somewhere else. By seeing different parts of the world one gains a better appreciation for how other people live as well as insight into how we might do things better or differently. While there are many things that work in Australia that would never work in Canada, just learning that there are options to living life is incredibly empowering and makes one want to try to be more creative and open to change upon return home. In a very short time, Mr. Ignatieff will find out if Canadians share my opinion.

I recently read with interest the speech The Globe’s Stephanie Nolen gave to recent graduates of the journalism program at King’s College. She said that her life abroad had taught her, among other things, that to be Canadian was indeed a privilege and that by exposing herself to some of the most harrowing and harsh places on earth, she had gained a profound appreciation for the country in which she was born. Though I don’t think Harvard or Cambridge have offered Mr. Ignatieff the same kind of perspective as the one about which Nolen writes, I do hope that he is home to stay and to make a real difference – a difference I know he could only have known how to make, by being away.

On Lego, museums and the luxury of time...

A year or two ago I had this glorious experience of spending three, maybe four hours of playing Lego with Colin and Alex. We were in our basement at Harwood and I must have been enjoying one of the perks of being a teacher, another holiday, but also another chance to spend time with the kids. Our goal was to try and use every last piece of Lego we owned in order to build the biggest and best Star Wars space station the world had ever seen! And we did. Use all the Lego that is. And we did it together, with only a pee break or two, without a cross word being spoken or anyone clamoring for the TV, a video game or the need to see daylight. I don’t even think we ate.

For a dad and a parent, it was a beautiful thing on many levels. We had of course played with the Lego before, but what struck me as being so memorably joyous was the sense of unlimited time the three of us had to simply play, together. I will admit to a major numb bum and several parts of my body refusing to sit cross-legged for longer than a minute. I also remember the dizzy sort of delirium I battled while looking for a grey flat piece with only 4 nubs against our grayish, flat, nubby carpet…But my point is that we went at it for several hours without a look to the clock, a concern for a meal, or a better place any of us had to be.

I was reminded of this experience recently because Colin had to do a class presentation about Lego the other day and so the family was immersed in a lot of Lego talk, research, building and remembering. In the course of the research and planning, the little bit of Lego we have here received a fairly good workout. Just tonight, we came together again on the living room floor and started to build another, way cool space station. As the boys bickered a bit over which gun should go where, I was transported back to that time in the basement. As I picked up piece after piece and snapped them into random spots, I found myself again free of concern and wholly content to be imagining new worlds with my boys. It also reminded me of something Lint and I talked about just a few days ago…

We were back at the Melbourne Museum, trying to avoid the throngs of people that had plagued us a few short weeks ago. As it was Sunday, we had absolutely no plans and so we let the pace and places be dictated by the kids. It was a great afternoon. Things we had seen before seemed fresh and new. We discovered galleries and places we had never seen before and might not have seen this time if we had rushed through. Turning off the adult impulse to worry about time, boredom, sore feet, or the simple fact that we had been here before allowed Lint and I to see it as the kids see it; we allowed ourselves to play. As we caressed our desperate coffees in the museum café we realized that we all do better with the luxury of time.

And yet earlier today I seemed to have forgotten that lesson already. I spent an hour engaged in a serious Pokemon battle with Alex after school. It does not quite have the same appeal for me as Lego and as with most games and Alex, you need to find creative ways to try hard but be sure to lose in the end. Anyway, it was fun, especially for him, but after awhile my mind and my will started to battle it out. Could I stay for one more battle or could I beg off with “sore knees” or “bathroom break” as legit excuses? Here I was in the middle of another of those glorious parent-child-play moments and I found myself craftily planning my exit. What was I thinking? Why would I ever want it to end?

I didn’t. Deep inside I really didn’t want it to end, but I was tired of the make believe and craved the news, a drink, a website, or something more adult for my Pokemon-addled mind. Was it possible too that I was just played out? I don’t think so. I think it may have been a generational thing- whereas Lego seems to have some innate ability to make the leap across the generational divide – Pokemon cannot – and having used my limited ability to live in the world of Pikachu – my mind inevitably “went elsewhere”.

And so finally, here I am. Approaching the end of the best thing our money could ever buy – time with my kids – and I continue to make discoveries, good and bad, about myself and what’s important. I think I knew of these discoveries before, like that magic moment in the basement a few years ago, but it’s taken a full year of being presented with them every day in order to understand how so much of what happens with our children is as a direct result of what happens with ourselves. By slowing down, looking up, or putting the clock away when the Lego is out or the museum calls then we all have a better chance of living – and playing - in the moment for the first or even fifth time around!

Expansion in a time of contraction...

Consider this another entry to my list of long running rants along the carpe diem continuum. Another realization about life and living that has managed to wedge its way into my slightly less cramped cranium in the last few days – and it goes something like this.

Time is linear. We move along it or down it knowing (or not) that with every day we get older, hopefully wiser, and inevitably closer to some sort of end. That is undeniable in life and it is becoming increasingly undeniable in our year away. At last, unofficial count, we have a mere six weeks of time before we bundle our bags and bodies onto a few planes and head for home. Seems incredible. But like a sudden brush with mortality, the calendar is starting to remind me that our time down under is becoming short and that we need to keep working at living here, rounding out the experience every day.

But that’s becoming increasingly hard. There are travel arrangements to be made, a house to clean, boxes to buy and then pack and a multitude of things related to life back home that are beginning to come into focus. And the list continues to grow. Meanwhile, back in Melbourne, I still have some things to learn at school, the boys have homework to do and friends to play with, we have places to visit, restaurants to try, life to live and even new friends to make….Yes, new friends to make.

Recently, after meeting a really nice dad who was willing to let Colin practice with his basketball team, I remarked to Linton that it was “Too bad we hadn’t met him earlier”. Not to say that we have not met tons of really nice people, but that here was someone who, with more time on our docket, I could see wanting to get to know better. And what I guess my point is, to this whole blog, is that we should still try and get to know him and any other people who we see at the café or bump into on the tram, whether we have a day, a week, or a year left in our journey.

But, as I have already said, it’s hard. Time is indeed linear and it drifts away from us or, conversely, pulls us along at a speed that people and relationships cannot always keep up with. Building connections with people, seems to me to be a “rounder” process where we build layers and add experiences like the rings of a tree, eventually connecting us together as people in “bubbles of familiarity”. As time moves along, immutable and unstoppable, our round relationships come willingly, follow eventually, or remain rooted where they are and ultimately left behind. Unfortunately, we sometimes weigh friendship and its value against whether or not we “have the time” or our "bubbles" are in sync.

So while we begin to worry about whether we need to bring home both Aussie animal sticker books or the Wall E bed sheets, we also need to recognize that there still might be a friendship, face, or potential "bubble" in the coffee line tomorrow for whom we simply must find the time.