I have a confession to make.
I’m starting to enjoy Vegemite.
I know, I know…I’m not sure what’s wrong with me either. My dad thinks I need an intervention and I can only imagine the wisecracks my brother has in the store for me (send them my way, Austin!). But if you spread the tiniest layer of it on a piece of toast and top it with sliced sharp cheddar or fresh avocado I find that I enjoy its salty taste.
So that’s where we’re at. At least Tim’s ecstatic. 😆
All joking aside, it is interesting at Week 20 to consider what marks Australia has made on me over the past few months.
In all honesty, I’ve been feeling pretty frustrated with my progress. It’s easy to look at the time that’s gone by and feel like I still don’t have much to show or feel disappointed that I’m not where I hoped I’d be yet. There are still large parts of me that feel stuck or a bit adrift.
I’ve been reading Kate Morton’s latest book Homecoming (Sam, did you know she’s Australian??). It is, in part, about an Australian woman who returns home after living in London for the past two decades. Morton describes the feeling of being “A transplant to a different country…belonging, but never quite fully, while another place, far, far away, maintained a stubborn claim as ‘home.’” (pg. 227) in a way that shows the author herself has lived far from home at one time or another. One passage following the character’s experience with jetlag after her long-haul flight stuck out to me in particular:
“In her single bed, in her childhood room, Jess slept fitfully…Her dreams were shot through with people from her past, forgotten versions of herself. She was a girl at school, a child visiting Darling House with her mother, a teenager at the beach…and then, with a surge of panic, she was awake again, wondering where and when and who on earth she was.
…But sleep was elusive. Lying in the dark, she felt divided, dissolvable, displaced. She pictured her bed in London and it seemed like make-believe. But this place was not right or real either. I want to go home. The thought came to her in a flash and immediately she pushed it away. The sentiment was childish, but also meaningless. It wasn’t that she wanted to go anywhere; rather, she wanted to feel at home, settled.” (pg. 166)
It’s a strange thing, to feel like you have one foot in two places. Wanting to feel settled is the perfect way to describe it.
This week had its own wins, though! I drove Edna three times this week, once again by myself to the grocery store. I’ve also been creating and painting a bit more, which offers a great release.
The weekend seemed to follow the theme of being in two places and blending cultures. On Friday Tim surprised me with a trip to a pub called Fenway in the suburb of Subiaco. Yes, Fenway, as in the beloved stadium that’s home to the Boston Red Sox. The pub was styled very similarly to an old bar you’d find nestled among the historic streets of Boston—think a forest green interior with golden sconces, dark paneled wood, and frosted glass partitions between the booths and sections of the bar. Though we both were perplexed about the numerous artworks depicting dogs smoking pipes that were hanging on the walls.
Subiaco boasted several hopping restaurants and bars, as well as some fun street art to discover as we made our way through the downtown area. After burgers at Fenway, we stopped in at the highly-rated Pitcher and Iron to try their suped-up waffles. Their “Philly Maple” was delicious and yet another cultural crossover (think Philadelphia cream cheese drizzle and warm maple syrup over a Liege waffle).
On Saturday morning I met a fellow American (who I met at the Fourth of July BBQ a few weeks back) for coffee at a cafe called Venn. We chatted a bit about Australian visas, our experiences here, and some of the things we miss about home. It was also interesting to hear about what it was like for her growing up (she’s from Idaho) and a solid reminder of how different two places in one country can be. It was nice to chat and discover another new favorite coffee spot (as I’ve said, my love for cafes has become dangerous).
Tim and I were invited to a BBQ on Saturday evening at the home of one of his hockey teammates. We brought over some things to throw on the grill and I marvelled at the view from their backyard.
On Sunday, Tim and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and completed the “Perth Bridges Walk” (also called “The Bridges” or “The Swan River Loop”). This is a roughly 10-kilometer loop that takes you along the Perth Foreshore (the area that Tim and I frequent for walks or picnics), over the Causeway Bridge, along the river and into bustling Elizabeth Quay, over the Narrows Bridge, and back down to the foreshore.
Although I’ve been to several of these locations at one point or another, I’ve never experienced them all together like this. It struck me as a really wonderful way to see part of the area, and I imagined taking many of you guys along this route as a way to show the variety that the city has to offer.
The walk is also a great way to get a feel for the lifestyle of the people here. Walking along the foreshore always brings scenes of walkers, joggers, and bikers, families sharing a picnic or tossing balls around on the grass, and an endless parade of dogs and their owners. Along the way, we also spotted several black swans (Perth’s state bird) and ran into one of Tim’s friends and his wife with their new baby, out for a post-lunch walk in the sun.
Across the river and in the central business district we crossed paths with many more tourists stopping to take photos, riding rental bikes, or settled in nearby cafes with waterfront views.
At lunchtime, we sat on a park bench overlooking the Swan River and took out the packed lunch we’d made earlier that day. Tim pulled out a Vegemite and cheese and I unwrapped a PB&J (only recently tasted by Tim for the first time this weekend!). Each of us split our respective sandwiches in half and quietly handed one half to each other.
As I finished my half of Vegemite and cheese and began making my way through the PB&J, that familiar wave of living in two different worlds crept up on me again.
While disorienting, perhaps it’s part of the process of allowing myself to unfold.
A version of me can savor a flat white in a cafe while still looking forward to an iced coffee in a friend’s kitchen back home.
A version of me can marvel at a glittering city skyline while not losing the wonder that a quiet field of fireflies brings.
A version of me can enjoy vegemite and cheese on toast while still loving a PB&J sandwich.
Although challenging, so many beautiful things have happened over the past several months. I’m taking some time to reflect on them and really hone in on what course I want to set moving forward.
Love and miss you all more than words can say. Until next week. Xo
Well sweetheart if you can solve the dilemma of missing home you will be a most fortunate young lady indeed. F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “I want to go home. Not the place but the feeling.” So, the obvious answer is to make where you are as comfortable and homey as you possibly can. As you know, easier said than done. You have a bit of wanderlust in you. Embrace it, don’t fight it. Miss and love you. PS; it’s amusing seeing you bundled up in late July. I guess that adds a bit more to your feeling peculiar.
The back went out last weekend while cleaning the shower of all things. Hasn’t done that in some years now.