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The Charms of Sydney
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Years ago I observed huge family crowds on the railway station in Bitola crying their tears out, singing, shouting and getting stoned while seeing off their closest of kin on the long road to Australia. One had to contemplate why did they leave? I myself could not think (least of all accept) that they were abandoning the paradise of Socialist Macedonia because they were underfed, underdressed and bereft of hope that things will ever get better. They must be either adventurous or desperate types or both,- I would catch myself entertaining such a stupid notion and would quickly try to forget it.
But then one would have to accept that if Australia expected to grow on the trickle of Macedonian immigrants, it would still be a wasteland.
And then one meets Sydney and begins to see that this place is something special. After a day or two a strange thought creeps in: How impossibly far is Europe and what those poor souls are doing out there when the world is here, where I stand! The egocentrics works miracles. That is what helped all those people from the Macedonian south remain there. And then more.
(to continue)
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