Category Archives: Australian Abroad

Single Figures…

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We are down to single figures peeps.

In just 9 sleeps, my little sister (aka Lil Chicky) will step off a very long flight from Down Under and into Old London Town (well Heathrow Airport anyway).

It will be her first ever trip here – hopefully not the last.  And I am ridiculously excited.

It’s getting difficult to think about anything else at the moment. I try to remember what my first London Loves were and I find myself wondering what are sorts of things she would like to do and see. Are they the same things that struck me when I first travelled here in 2000? The history, the theatre, the eclectic cultural mix, the architecture? Or is it something else? Perhaps a little high tea or some high kicks at a show? Or shall we take in the Eye, the Abbey, the Shard, the Wall or even the Cock in the Square.

The National Gallery and St Martin in the Fields overlook Trafalgar Square and the latest installation on The Fourth Plinth

The mind boggles.

Lately I have found myself in the midst of my day when I am struck by something I want to show her or share. Like on Friday night when I left the office (my ‘new’ one – our Head Office – where I am now based) and saw this…

…or the view from Waterloo Bridge at night which, after almost 10 years here, still makes me catch my breath and say to myself ‘I really did it. I live here. This is my home.’


So much to do and so little time.

And only 9 sleeps to go.

That’s exciting.

Has Our Luck Run Out?

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The results are in and Australia has a new Prime Minister.

Yes, another one. Our third this year.

And I cannot believe this man has been chosen by ‘the people’ to represent them.

Or has he?

When I moved to the UK almost ten years ago, I added myself to the UK’s electoral roll (as an Australian, I can do that here). There are many places in the world where having your say is not an option so I appreciate the privilege of living in a society that allows me to do this, whatever the mechanism.

At the same time, I removed myself from the Australian electoral roll, figuring that if I make my home elsewhere, it is not for me to have a say in the lives of those who still live in Australia. That is their privilege – albeit a compulsory one. But I remain staunchly Australian, carrying my native twang, laconic style and direct approach with pride and  hoping to be a good ambassador for my homeland wherever I go.

The outcome of this weekend’s election Down Under has left me stunned. I can find absolutely nothing to recommend Tony Abbott and as far as I’m concerned, he is an incredibly poor representative of the Australian people. And unusually – I move in opinionated and voluble circles – I haven’t come across anyone with a different point of view. No-one.

Pundits talk about a long election campaign (seven months) riddled with ‘reality stunts’ as opposed to committed and thoughtful politics; a circus of name-calling and sniping that perhaps voters just wanted to be done with. And given the Rudd-Gillard-Rudd tug of war within the Labor Party, perhaps people voted for the leader with a semblance of alignment behind him.

So what did happen? Is it a result of apathy or is there really something worthwhile under all of the surface nastiness and sniping? I’d be genuinely interested to hear any views that explain Abbott and the coalition’s policies, if only to understand what the future looks like over the next four years for Australia.

 

Australia continues to hold the rest of the world in its ‘lucky country’ thrall and with a pretty buoyant economy (by global standards) and four cities in the world’s top ten most liveable cities, this perception seems warranted.

But after this weekend, I’m left wondering whether our luck’s about to run out.

The Sh*t Bit…

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I saw someone post on Facebook this week that people who only have happy positive status updates were not being completely honest – that sometimes life is just a bit sh*t.

After an amazing couple of weeks where I got promoted, had a birthday and generally felt lucky, humbled and a bit like I was floating on air, I’ve come down to earth with a bit of a thud.

So in the interests of having a good moan balancing the scales, here it comes.

The sh*t bit.

It all started with a second rubbish night’s sleep in a row as my back grumbled and groaned through the early hours after a pretty ‘robust’ acupuncture/ massage/ cupping session on Saturday.

A bad night’s sleep is NEVER good…and also one of the many reasons I don’t have children.

Anyway I fronted up to the train station this morning to buy my weekly travel card only to have my debit card declined. Upon further investigation, it transpired that my card had actually been cancelled by the Fraud Team (FT) at my bank…last Thursday (today is Monday). While I’m all for taking steps to ensure that some bugger doesn’t empty my funds albeit meagre from my account, a notification (like a text message or phone call which said bank seems to use at will for a myriad of other occasions) would be nice. Let me tell you, I can think of a few other words FT could stand for.

Needless to say, I held my breath as I waited for the credit card from my ‘other’ bank to clear the funds for my ticket.

I arrived at the office, looking forward to a quiet moment with my coffee to ease into the busy day ahead. I opened my email to find that the person from our Russian office who was to join us for 6 months to cover a colleague‘s maternity leave from today was refused entry into the UK and shipped back to Moscow on a flight at 8.50 this morning. Oh crap crap crap!

Then mid morning I placed a call to my local medical centre to follow up a referral from an appointment 3 weeks ago. After having to explain several times that I wasn’t chasing the results but the referral and asking for the letter to be re-faxed (as I had been asked to do by the nurse), I was given a number to call to get a name so that the fax could be addressed to a specific person for me to follow up.

On the best of days, this convoluted sort of process tests me. Today…

…and to make matters worse the number I was given didn’t connect, so I had to ring back and explain everything again. Apparently I was going to get a call back this afternoon…

Finally I left the office. I had a physiotherapy appointment booked (for said grumpy back) so I got to the station in plenty of time…and managed to get on a train that didn’t stop at my station. The lovely train station lady at St Pancras did let me get back on a train going the other way 15 minutes later (instead of fining me for not having a ‘valid ticket for travel’) and I did get home in time for a quick change of clothes before my appointment so you could argue that things were starting to turn around.

But quite frankly it was a day I could have done without.

I know that there could have been a lot of other, much worse things to deal with than my litany of inconsequential irritations. But it just didn’t feel like I could catch a break. So I figure that tomorrow’s got to be a better day…

…right?

London Love…Fab Finchley

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It’s been a little while since I shared a Fab Finchley foray with you so here’s the post to remedy that.

Yesterday I was off for a visit to the physiotherapist. While not the first physiotherapist I have ever encountered, it was in fact the first visit to this particular one who lives a short stroll away on the other side of my local park.

So last night I set off in the warm sunshine (yes still very warm at ten minutes to six o’clock) and before long my strolling took me across Victoria Park. London has been blessed with a few glorious weeks of summer (the newspapers are calling it a heatwave *guffaw*) and the park was dotted with people making the most of the weather – kids, runners, families, dog walkers. It seemed that everyone was moseying around the paths, enjoying a moment on a shaded bench or sprawling on the grass beneath the bright blue sky.

I had walked almost entirely across the park when I was struck by how vibrant and lush it looked. It wasn’t that there were loads of flowers out as there are at other times (I found my first daffs of the season here) but it seemed that everywhere I looked was literally vibrating with energy and colour.

Stopped in my tracks by the beauty of this scene, I turned around to see this.

 

I smiled quietly to myself. For a few moments I stood there, taking it all in, before turning back and heading on to my appointment.

And it reminded me once again how much I love living here.


ps…regular Gidday-ers maybe wondering about the lack of birthday posting since the big day on August 1st. It’s been a busy ol’ time but rest assured I’ll be updating you soon…

In Memorium…

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Yesterday afternoon, a jeweller’s shop was held up in the tiny Victorian town of Hastings.

The husband was fatally stabbed while trying to protect his wife from the bandit. She was taken to hospital for her injuries and has since been released.

These people were our friends.

Dermot and Bridget O’Toole were amongst that first group of people who, when Mum arrived in Victoria with two little girls in 1980, generously wove a much-needed support network around us.

Bridget ran the nursery at the tenpin bowling centre where Mum worked. Dermot made Mum’s Claddagh ring for her second wedding. I remember Dale and Trent (two of their three sons) only as little boys: it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them.

An email from Mum this morning bore this devastating news and my heart goes out to this wonderful family who made such a difference to us and who must now face the consequences of such a terrible and senseless tragedy. My thoughts are filled with memories of this lovely Irish man whose passing leaves such a gap in his community, his family and in the hearts of all of those who were blessed to know him.

So I dedicate this post to the memory of that lovable Irish rogue, Dermot O’Toole.

 
May he rest in peace.

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http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/law-order/popular-jeweller-stabbed-dead-in-botched-robbery-at-hastings/story-fni0fee2-1226678625253

Questioning The Benefits…

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I watched a television show this week that explored the benefits system here in the UK which pitted public opinion against the benefits culture.

I’ve never been on benefits although I have been in the position of scrimping to pay my bills and feed myself as the result of my job being made redundant at the end of 2008 followed by the a**e falling out of the job market in 2009. So as everything from the weekly grocery shop to the job hunting behaviour was scrutinised, I did have some sympathy. But I was definitely on the side of the tax payer who was stunned to see how cavalier other people were being with ‘my money’.

One of the people receiving benefits was a young guy on the dole who had graduated from University with his degree. He received a visit from a tax-paying nurse who works long hours to earn the money she needs to get by. She asked some pretty tough questions and pointed out to him that his situation in having a supportive family – living rent-free with an aunt and uncle who also co-fund things like his iPhone bill – surely meant that he should be working to contribute, albeit at something that might not reflect his degree qualification.

Granted, this guy only received something in the order of £3,600 per year and was doing some volunteer work at the local Youth Centre but in doing the job-hunting rounds of the retailers in the town centre, there was very little enthusiasm demonstrated around find a job to pay his way, let alone fund his hi-tech paraphernalia or brand-name shoes. He’d worked his way through Uni and he felt he should wait for a career job.

I remember leaving Uni in 1991, a rare (for then) duo of degrees in hand, expecting that my choice to double the workload and fees over my four years of study would yield the kind of career prospects I’d been promised when I had first enrolled. I had worked to pay my way throughout and also had a mountain of debt to pay back at the end.

As I sent off applications, phoned recruitment officers and generally chased as many opportunities as possible, time after time I was met with ‘you’re over qualified and under-experienced’, something I found – and still find – to be a ridiculously circular argument. (How can a graduate with any promise get the essential experience for an ‘entry level’ position in their chosen career?) So after leaving my put-myself-through-Uni job, I worked as receptionist, then moved to a sales admin role with a sales brokerage firm six months later and worked my way into my marketing career from there. Life being what it is, I have found myself back ‘at Reception’ several times, temping to make ends meet after moving to London. But that’s a whole other story.

It’s been demoralising each time and there was many a time I thought to myself, what am I doing and how did I get here after all that hard work? But I always wanted to earn rather than receive the handout. Quite frankly, it also kept me sane: to be learning about a new business and meeting new people rather than dwelling on the situation I was in.

There’s a big part of me that can ‘see’ the logic in waiting and taking what one can get. And I understand the disappointment of feeling that years of hard work to get a qualification is being overlooked or even dismissed. But I am pretty put out that my taxes are paying for his gadgets. I’ve blogged about ‘entitlement’ before so I won’t get on my soapbox (for now anyway) – maybe the fault also lies in a system that is ill-equipped to validate need versus ease.

What do you think? Is there anywhere that has gotten this right?
 

Happy Birthday To You!

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Today is the 4th of July. It’s the day that America left the empirical embrace of Great Britain and declared their independence some 237 years ago.

And my recent sojourn to visit Seattle-A and her boys (that’s Husband, the little dudes and G the wonder dog!) means that America’s National Day has featured a little higher on my radar this year.

In doing a little research to prepare for this post, I have learned that today is also Republic Day in The Philippines – celebrating their cessation as a US territory in 1946 – and Liberation Day in Rwanda – commemorating the end of the Rwanda Genocide in 1994.

I’ve also learned that Eritrea Independence Day (24th May) is by far the hardest to say and that Morocco The Day of Enthronement of His Majesty King Mohammed VI is the longest (30th July) closely followed by China Anniversary of the Founding of the People’s Republic of China (1st October) – try fitting either of those on a postage stamp.

And last but not least, I’ve been overjoyed to discover that 1st August is both Switzerland Confederation Day and the Tonga Official Birthday of His Majesty King George Tupou V. Thanks goodness! I started to think that my own official day was to be celebrated amongst only the equine.

(Do you like how I slipped in the birthday reference? Clever huh.)

Anyway, it should come as no surprise that today’s lunch-table conversation naturally turned to the National Days celebrated by my colleagues of many cultures.

My French colleague claims Bastille Day (14th July) as her national day with a raised fist and ‘vive la revolucion!’  Our Italian celebrates the liberation of Italy from the Germans on the 25th April. (Incidentally that’s ANZAC Day in Australia which commemorates the Australian and New Zealand soldiers who fought to capture the Gallipoli Peninsula in 1915). The Turks at the table celebrate on 29th October with Turkey Republic Day and the English contingent hold St George’s Day (yes, he of the dragon fame) up as the beacon of their nation.

And Australia? Well we have a celebratory beer on January 26th. Australia Day commemorates the day in 1788 when Captain Arthur Phillip sailed his fleet of eleven convict ships into Sydney Cove and ‘settled’ Captain James Cook’s 1770 claim to Eastern Australia as a colony of the British Empire. We give out a few awards, go to the beach and chuck a few snags on the barbie. And we usually watch a bit of sport – tennis, cricket, horse-racing, yachting just to name a few.

Australia Day doesn’t celebrate a separation as such (and rest assured I have plenty of views on that score). What it does represent is the birth of our modern nation, built on the shoulders of the brave who, in true pioneering spirit, forged a life for themselves in a strange and hostile land.

So as one pioneer to another, I raise a stubby to our American friends and with a taciturn nod, wish you a laconic ‘happy birthday’.

Hope you’ve had a good one.


ps…and speaking of good ones, my loved ones have asked for ‘The List’ which means a certain blogger’s big day is just 27 sleeps away…yes peeps, the countdown is back!

The Month That Disappeared….

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It’s the last day of June. The longest day here has passed and we are halfway through the year already. The last time I looked I was blogging ad infinitum about my Paris city break and looking forward to seeing Seattle-A for the first time in about 7 months.

What happened to the last 4 weeks?

Well it’s been a busy month jam packed with travel near and far. As regular readers of this blog will know, I spent a week in the Emerald City with Seattle-A at the beginning of the month. I then returned to Gidday HQ for four days – during which time I squeezed in a hen day (yes a whole day) – before travelling to Sweden for our mid year Sales Conference. Back again for 2 nights before packing yet another bag and heading to Oxford for previously said hen’s nuptials. Add to that some long hours at work last week and I literally dragged myself into this weekend, grateful for a little decompression time (and a well-earned mani-pedi).


At the same time, the busy-ness has been wonderful. It feels a bit like a whole lot of great things crammed themselves into the month as a reminder of all of the amazing people that give richness and colour to my life.

The wedding was a case in point: a French woman marrying her Russian paramour and surrounded by a veritable league of nations as the intimate reception of thirty played host to French, Russian, English, American, German, Turkish, Italian, Kyrgyzs (I had to look up what to call someone from Kyrgyzstan) and Australian (that would’ve been me) well-wishers. And working for the European division of a global company meant that the sales conference was attended by a cross-section of my extremely awesome colleagues from across the continent (and indeed the world by virtue of us having an American boss).

But maybe the biggest cultural exchange was in Seattle. 

Pre-trip it is safe to say that a mild sense of apprehension prevailed as to how my life-long, self-imposed baby-free zone would work when confronted with 9 week old twins. Seattle-A and I had discussed several contingency plans – including fleeing across the nearby border to Vancouver (me that is) – if it all got a bit much. But those two little dudes manage to melt Aunty Kym’s heart in the space of just one week.

This is Rockin’ R. Many a cosy chat was held with Aunty Kym during burping, cuddling and even sleeping…although he was a little perturbed as to why the bumps on my chest, so similar to Mummy’s, didn’t emerge at feeding time in the same way…

And this is DJ O, named for his penchant for playing tunes on the interactive baby bouncer. He’s attached to Mummy in a very possessive and singular fashion so this was a short lull in his squirming wriggly-ness where he wasn’t letting the whole world know how life was sucking in Aunty Kym’s embrace…not so many close encounters but still adorable.

All the while I got to hang out with my gorgeous friend, absorbing as much us-time as I possibly could to sustain me until the next visit. We had a few excursions with the little dudes in tow with varying degrees of success (especially our last day lunch, which DJ O was having none of!) Thanks to Hubby, we also got a glorious Sunday afternoon together for coffee, manicures, pedicures, wine tasting and a rather pleasant lunch lolling about in the sunshine at the J. Bookwalter Tasting Studio before heading home to BBQ a whole Copper River salmon (Seattle-A is that kind of girl!)

There was even a touch of drama when G the wonder-dog gave spirited chase to a coyote who’d wandered by to check things out on my penultimate day.

It was such a wonderful week. There’s is something so soothing about being with the people who know and love you best. And I never thought I would become so attached to my awesome little dudes so I hope it’s not too long before I can manage another trip to see them all. Who knew that Aunty Kym would survive baby bootcamp (albeit sans nappy-changing) so well? And that my cuppa-making skills would be quite so in demand?

In any case, it was an emotional hug in the drop off lane at the airport on the Tuesday evening.

So that was June. Gone in the blink of an eye and yet leaving a montage of special memories impressed firmly upon my heart.

I wonder what July will bring?

Salutations From Seattle…

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Salutations from Seattle peeps!

While we’ve been managing to get out and about each day during my Seattle sojourn, this has been somewhat limited to shorter outings that we can manage with the babies in tow, who by the way, have been rather busy melting Aunty Kym’s heart. And needless to say blogging has taken a back seat while I soak up as much Seattle-A time as possible while I’m here. 

But as the boys had a hot date with the paediatrition last Thursday (and Mummy and Daddy had the whole deal covered more than adequately), I decided to make myself scarce and get into Seattle for a day of sightseeing and shopping.

Seattle is a relatively ‘new’ town having been founded in 1851. That’s more than 70 years after the First Fleet sailed into Australia’s Sydney Cove, so this is an unusual position for an Aussie, used to being the youngster in the global village, to be in. It is also reasonably compact and very walkable, the streets are wide and tree-lined and there are coffee shops absolutely everywhere where you can rejuvenate. And despite my general aversion to Starbucks, the coffee, service and free wi-fi were both excellent and eminently helpful.

All up I spent six hours and only covered the Downtown area. Arriving at Westlake on the express bus from Overlake Transit Centre (near Husband of Seattle-A’s work and a bargain at only $2.50 for a single 20min trip), I picked a few choice morsels from the guide book and just wandered around in between (more on that in another post). 

And the highlights? Well the weather was absolutely glorious but I have a feeling that was more good luck than good planning and quite frankly there’s not much anyone can do about that. But for spectacular views no matter the weather, take the express lift up to the Chinese Room on the 35th floor of the Smith Tower just around the corner from Pioneer Square.


The 36-42nd floors are occupied by a penthouse (yes, just one penthouse) but the 360 degree observation deck around the 35th floor is fantastic. Let me show you what I mean.

Here’s a shot of the ‘other’ observation deck, the Space Needle. According to my Frommer’s guide, you get to pay about $17.50 for the privilege of being rotated (versus walking around the 35th floor of the Smith Tower for $7.50).

The Mountain is out! Mt Rainier looms through the clouds, an apparently unusual occurrence so I was thrilled to get this ‘on film’.  

A glorious view over Elliott Bay to the Olympic Mountains and Puget Sound.

After you’ve had your fill of amazing views, it’s just a couple of blocks down the hill to Pioneer Square and into Doc Maynard’s to take the 90 minute Underground Tour of Seattle ($17.50 per person). Filled with historic sound bites, this unique tour takes you beneath the streets of Downtown Seattle to explore this outpost of the Pacific Northwest’s seamy past. And me being, well me, I bought the book that forms the basis for the tour, Sons of the Profits by Bill Speidel. Absolutely fascinating stuff.

School buses lined up in Pioneer Square.
 
Doc Maynard’s: your underground tour starts here!
 
Heading underground…

 …to see the city from another perspective.


And a visit to Seattle wouldn’t be complete without a wander through Pike Place Market.

There’s plenty of fish to buy (among other things)…
 
 …but don’t forget to give a nod to the original Starbucks. These happy buskers were playing a few tunes when I wandered by.

Speaking of nods, being back in the States reminds me just how wonderful it is to be served. From the locals in the street to the staff in the stores and restaurants, people cannot do enough to help and want to make sure you have an amazing time in their city. Something that the rest of the world could take a few notes on.

And finally it was time for a spot of shopping at Macy’s who were having a sale – God Bless America I say!


And after finding some great bargains and nothing less than exceptional service, I only had a short block to walk to take my tired feet and satisfied smile back to the bus for the ride ‘home’.

ps…You may have noticed that I didn’t race around to try and squeeze everything in (as I am usually wont to do). Well I figure this might just be the first of many visits – presuming Team-M will have me – so I thought I’d leave some stuff for next time!

Proud To Be Australian?

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In the absence of any stimulating TV last night, I watched an Australian documentary series by Joe Hildebrand exploring the reputation of Australians overseas. Hildebrand is a journalist for The Daily Telegraph in Sydney and appears on a variety of TV programs sparking much controversy and debate with his outspoken and provocative views.

Prior to yesterday, I’d never heard of him. But I was catching up with a friend I have not seen since high school and over a glass of wine and a bowl of pasta, we were talking about how Australia has ‘changed’ and more specifically about the ‘race riots’ in Cronulla (which are still so viceral in the minds of Australians that when my friend mentioned them, I thought there had been something more recent than 2005).

Anyway the series, called Dumb, Drunk and Racist, follows the experiences of four Indians invited to take a road trip with Hildebrand to experience the best and worst of Australia. 


The prevailing view in India is that Australians are rude, racist, dumb and drunk to the point of embarrassment, irresponsibility and violence. So Gurmeet (a journalist/ newreader), Radhika (an education advisor), Amer (a law student) and Mahima (a call centre worker) all agreed to face their preconceptions and, for some, fear of visiting the Land Down Under and to share their views on what they experience .

http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/khRP_MPI8sA&source=uds
Warrning: Before you play this, much to my embarrassment you should know there’s some shocking language in this trailer.

If you think this trailer is bad, the series is worse. And in some ways better as the generous foursome end the series with a much improved view of Australians having witnessed the hard-working, warm and generous people who are at the heart of Australian communities, both in suburbia and in outback towns. But more often than not, I cringed as I watched, horrified at the boorish, narrow-minded Australians that have become the basis of our reputation in the wider world.

While I don’t believe that the majority of Aussies behave like this, the behaviour of a few is tainting the perception of the whole and I am concerned that Australia, with its ‘she’ll be right’ mentality and sense of entitlement to a land we took from others in the first place, will not really address this.

Our lucky country has never dealt with terrorism, attack or even real economic crisis when compared with the rest of the world so as a nation, we’ve never had to fight for or fear very much.  Maybe our literal isolation from the rest of the world (and from each other – Australia is a spacious place by anyone’s definition) creates a feeling of safe-ness, the urgency of doing anything dissipating in the absence of any trouble on our doorstep. We have a view of our laid back attitude as rather lovable and fun but perhaps it actually hides an unwillingness to step up, ‘rock the boat’ and demand change.

In saying all of that, it was heart-warming to see the surprise and delight of the four travellers at the Australian sense of fun and open-ness – there’s a really gorgeous moment between Mahima and a local when, obviously quite taken with her, he follows ‘pleased to meet ya’ with ‘would ya like a beer?’ and then proceeds to order her purple PomPom drinks, to her absolute delight.

The spirit of community that emerges in our country towns and our tolerance for lifestyle choices taboo in India is also lauded and in spite of the nastiness throughout the six episodes, I found a lot to be proud of.  But it was still hard for me to watch these gentle and intelligent people being abused by foul-mouthed locals. That we are not the only nation facing these kinds of challenges matters little.  For all our easy-going tolerance, there comes a time when a line needs to be drawn.

And the time is now.

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Most of the series is available on youtube if you are outside Australia and cannot access ABC2.