Last Thoughts On Missy Higgins
Trip Start
Feb 26, 2004
1
34
84
Trip End
Nov 16, 2006
The End Of The Line,
Australia
Sunday, May 8, 2005
Back in Sydney, 2 days before I fly out. I got back here and had planned to just chill out on a beach for my last few days, but instead Maxi got me a few days work packing sugar ("It's a sweet job." - Maxi). Besides that I've been doing very little. As my full year in Australia approaches I've done a lot of reflective thinking (oh dear) about my time here.
Looking back, the last year has been fantastic. In a way it has flown by, but it also seems like I've done loads and feels like a bunch of holidays. There have of course been the people and the moments that will stick out in my mind: Swimming in the icy waters of Tasmania, surfing in Margaret River, relaxing in Broome, the surreal work on the chicken farm, the life and death of our car 'Dingo', taking a dip with a croc in Kakadu, the nightime tour of Albany from some locals, the recent 10 day outback trek and Uluru, the Hutt River Province, life in Melbourne, the Ben Folds tour, the Wine tours, and of course the almost perfect Christmas day on Bronte beach.
I'd like to think spending a full year here gave me some sort of insight into Australia. One day when my children ask me, "What was Australia like?", and "Was it awkward that mum was so much younger than you, and Scandinavian?", and "Why did mum leave you?", I'd like to think I'll be able to answer one of these.
So, I started thinking about this country, and in my mind I began to generalise and pidgeon-hole Australia in a series of sweeping statements. Isn't that what travel writing is all about?
The first obvious thing you notice is the weather. It's extreme, and although it rains here alot more then anyone lets on, it's still isn't enough. There is still constant talk of water shortages and water catchment areas. They try their best to ease the situation by giving all their toilets half flush buttons, but they still have the most powerful showers I have ever experienced, rivalling riot control hoses. Also, the ozzys are obsessed with watering their grass and washing their cars.
In fact, Australians are obsessed with everything to do with their cars. The country is saturated with 4WD magazines and personalised license plates. I guess the vast distances between places account for this, but this doesn't excuse the scarily high amount of drink driving that goes on.
I asked a guy in WA about all the drink driving, and he denied it. He boasted that he would never in a million years drink drive. Fair enough. But he went on to explain that he couldn't, he had already been charged with drink driving, and if he was caught again he would most likely lose his job as a lawyer.
I think the big drinking culture explains the drink driving. It's funny, whenever I told anyone I was Irish, most Australians pointed out that we like to drink alot. But Australians are massive piss heads...It's in this country that I was introduced to the 'Drive-In Bottleshop' (you don't have to leave your car to buy drink) and the 'Roadie' (the can one drinks while driving to buy more piss).
Maybe that's why they love the Irish. It's great. I just don't understand their relationship with the English. They fucking hate the whingey pommey bastards. And yet, they voted to stay part of the Commonwealth. The Queen's head is still on all the coins, and the Union Jack is still an eye sore on their flag. While practically everyone over here is divorced, they can't bring themselves to divorce the Monarchy. The most common reason I've heard is for security, especially in this alleged age of terrorism. Although a taxi driver pointed out that if a terrorist ever did make it over to Australia they would be far too jet lagged to blow anything up.
A genius alternative I've heard is to replace the Union Jack with the Aboriginal flag. This seems ideal to me, but a lot of people disagree, and don't look kindly on the Abbos. I can't pretend to understand the Aboriginal situation after only a year. I don't understand why so many of them become alcoholics and stand around the street all day. Having said that, if foreigners came to my country after thousands and thousands of years of living happily, and they massacred most of my people, took our land, built loads of Starbucks and started driving around in cars with personalised license plates, I don't really know how I'd react.
I love Australians. There's an ongoing joke that people from Tasmania are weird, but I found the whole country nuts, and I love it, despite the fact that they rate Tim Tams over Mint Slices and that half of their evening news is dedicated to animals attacking people and fights in AFL matches.
In one of my office induced states of delusion, hypnotised by boredom, I began to compare countries to girls, and backpacking is a series of relationships.
Australia is a big girl. She's not fat, but she's complex...there's alot to her.
I see Melbourne as the very cool, eclectic side which first caught my eye and drew me in. Sydney's the not-so-appealing counteraprt. It's Australia acting different when she's out with her good looking mate of hers who i don't really like. The east coast is the drunken party side, and if you're seeing Australia long enough you'll eventually make it to the formal Canberra to 'meet the parents'.
As you move on, the relationship moves on. You see sides of her that not everyone gets to see. You venture to Western Australia and that's when you really fall in love. Everything you discover, and every new thing you see amazes you. She really sweeps you off your feet at this point and you think it might last forever.
Add to this the physical side: The hot, gorgeous Northern Territory, the pinchable ass of Southern Australia, and the absolutely beautiful Tasmania (perhaps the legs, which environmentalists are trying to protect, but the government keeps shaving).
I don't know what Uluru is, but it's in the Red Centre, I needed a guide to find it, and I didn't really know what to do when I got there.
I love Australia, but it's time to move on. I think we should see other countries. It's not you, it's me. I'm just not ready to settle down. But thanks for a great year. I'm sure we'll get together again at some point (and regret it in the morning). But for now, goodbye.
