I'm really busy at the moment trying to roll out a global (eeek!) campaign, and slightly freaking out.
I am T-3 weeks away from cutting my teeth on the global marketing arena, and to say I am nervous/anxious is a mild understatement. I have been pulling late nights at the office, consuming (yummy) dutch lattes like it's sangria, and working at semi-warp speed and getting some sleep inbetween.
No wonder my glands have swollen up to the size of golf balls, all when I am supposed to be going to Cologne with my heroes, George and Sarah this weekend. I am having a quiet night on the houseboat tonight, after being somewhat melancholy about Australia Day, trying to get some rest, and maintaining some social aspects of my life too.
It was a non-event to say the least - the only bar that does anything is called "Coco's Outback" bar, and quite frankly, I am a little scared of it. It's dingy, and dark and it's tagline is "Lousy food and Warm beer". They announced on their website that they were having Triple J hottest 100, free lamingtons, 1 EU Australian beers (Fosters????) and a raffle that was giving away a "choock" ( a choc? or a chook? Or something in between?) and a carton of VB. Apparently it goes off on Grand Final day, but, you know, if I didn't care too much for AFL in Australia, it would be wrong for me to pretend here in Amsterdam.
The pub is just so wrong, I can't bring myself to be apart of a cave of a playground that associates itself with Australia, by bastardising the notion of it. That's when I knew I held much more regard for Australia than I ever thought possible. The idea that... THAT building, and the underdressed, considerately underdressed bar wenches that patrol the tables, could represent where I came from, was insulting.
I know it's more about the atmostphere and the potential people I could meet there, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Not physically feeling like this, and being all wound up like a yoyo, in terms of work stress. On a Tuesday night.
One of my colleagues, Sarah, bought me a cookie and made a little card that said "Happy Australia Day" and left it for me on my desk this afternoon. That cheered me up a bit.
Laura's dad is in town, and she invited me over for some fondue and wine. So I went. It was nice. Funny that I was doing something really swiss with swiss people, on Australia day.
Thinking about Australia day has made me think about the concept of 'home', a lot. It's something that I have been actively pondering about for a while. There are a lot of things that I miss about Australia, and I think since the weather just reverted to minus some-teen degrees here, I have been feeling particularly homesick.( Which I never thought I would really feel, since I always felt for some time that I was so desperate to leave, and experience new things.)
I had to explain to a colleague that I went to Indonesia for Christmas.
"Oh, so how was it at home?"
It's not my home, I had to explain to him.
"So where is home?"
"Well, I grew up in Australia."
"So that's home?"
"Guess so."
And then the questions start.
Who makes a home? Do you make it with stuff and photoframes, and a cosy bed to rest your head? Or is it organically created by the presence of your loved ones? And memories of good times and not so good times that were influential in shaping you as the person you are today?Where is home? Is home just where you have your belongings? Cliche after bloody cliche started pouring into my head.
I have held off on writing a post of this nature for some time.
It's a difficult topic for me to delve into and give the attention I feel it deserves. And this post, by no means, even scratches the surface of this topic and the meaning this one word means to me, in the context of my life.
I have only managed to define home by a process of elimination. It is only when I have realised where home was NOT, that I could ever define where home was.
Familiarity. Sources of comfort. A catalyst for memories of significant moments. Where you are known. Where you are cared about. A combination of all these things make a home. I am sure there are more factors.
In short,
Indonesia is not home.
I don't speak the language fluently enough to feel comfortable with interacting whole heartedly with locals. I don't always understand the customs. Or the celebrities. Or the laws. Or the history. I like the food though. And my parents live there. And I have a room in their house there. But it's their house. Not mine. Nothing I own permanantly resides there.
I live in Amsterdam now. It's my home right now. I have a room in an apartment filled with things that I have purchased in order to make my life here livable. I have pictures up in my room of people I care about. The fridge is full with my food. I know how the dishwasher works, and how to get to and from my house from most places in Amsterdam.
But there are some things that can't be replaced or even mildly replicated from the place where you spend the majority of your life. And once you experience them once in your life, and you get used to it, or you get hooked, and you take them for granted, it starts to dawn on you when they aren't around, that there some things that are unique to the place you grew up (kind of like Johnny; the balding, spandex wearing, aboriginal dude that trapses your local town hotspots with his miniature koala backpack. But I don't miss him.) I experienced that a lot when I lived in Queensland, for crying out loud, I was a two and half hour plane trip away from Adelaide.
I also think that the 6 month mark also represents a time when things aren't new anymore, YOU aren't new any more, and things are around you are somewhat familiar but still hold a foreign air about them, and that can be even more challenging than the getting settled in period. Before the big move to Queensland a couple of years ago, I remember a lot of people saying to me "Just give it six months at least, you just don't get a feel for a place until you've spent that much time there, don't think about coming home until it's been six months". I always concurred, and even thought to myself, at least a year, anywhere before you even begin to scratch the surface of a new place.
Funny, that in Brisbane, after 2 years, and I knew that it was never going to feel even home-like, and as a seperate feeling, I knew it wasn't for me.
I thought that once I was in Amsterdam with a steady job and an apartment, and circle of friends, that everything would be smooth sailing.
Yeah, uh... no. It's hard. Getting up in darkness is hard (damn near impossible actually). Trying to negotiate the trains on a daily basis can be frustrating. Negotiating with dutch suppliers, when you know they are trying to take the piss out of you, is demeaning. Not being able to feel your toes once in a while is downright scary. And staring into the cafeteria fridge, and all that peers back at you is rows and rows of cold cheese rolls is depressing. There are obviously more challenges, that run deeper than this, but I can't be bothered focusing on those right now.
And it can be fun.
Living freely, making my own choices is invigorating. Travelling randomly with old friends is exhilirating. Spending time with new friends is eye-opening. Strolling across a canal is breathtaking. Speaking a new language is rewarding.
Australia Day - It's just a day, like every other 364 days of the year. The sun rises, and sets, and in between, before and after, you do things during that time. Sometimes fun, sometimes not so much fun, sometimes obligatory. And there will be plenty more days to be had in the year. But there's only one Australia Day. Noone that's not Australian really "gets" Australia day. Like I'm not really going to get "Queen's Day" in the last weekend of April in Amsterdam this year. I'll just be here, but I don't really get the meaning behind traditions, and the festivities.
And that's when I knew for certain that Australia was home. Home isn't a perfect place, (it has Wayne Swan for a treasurer to start with, it's a nation full of uncouth, clone like, bingedrinking, aggressive teens, and don't get me started about cricket), but I "get it". I don't need to think twice about the way I interact with any of it. It just is what it is. And it took me 24 years of my life to get the way things work in Australia, but I know it's home because living and existing there is so intuitive. And I am lucky to have lived there for so long. And I love the majority of what it offers.
And it's a great place to live and exist. Will be "gezellig"* when I get back there.
Happy Australia Day xxx
* Explanation of this word requires a whole new post that I can't be bothered writing right now.
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