Roll on 2017
As the year finally draws to a close, I thought it would be the right time to reflect upon the decisions I have made that have brought me to this unexpected place in my life. It’s safe to say that when I welcomed in 2016, I truly didn’t think I’d be in Australia a year later. I didn’t think I’d have enough money to make it this far, and I didn’t think I would have survived with just a backpack and a few casual outfits. Before I embarked on my trip I was having a great year. I was lucky to have a great job in London and had managed to slowly but surely claw out of my overdraft and into saving mode. I even met some great people, lovers and friends, who all had an impact on the way I saw that world. I was healthy and happy and I had a clear vision of my London life and who I wanted to be. I had established a fine balance teetering on a knife edge, which I was about to completely topple all of my own accord. And so I booked those flights and braced myself for delving into the unknown. The hardest part of my journey was saying goodbye to my family at the airport. When my parents gave me a compass as a symbol of always finding my way home. No, the hardest part was arriving in Nepal without a clue what I was doing and totally out of my depth - or was the hardest part climbing a mountain in the himalayas? Was it the struggle to carry a 15kg backpack through busy foreign streets? To experience a true language barrier for the first time? To learn how to sleep in an airport? To find a job? To find a house? To find friends? It’s all been hard. But I’d do it all again. In the past 3 months I have faced more hurdles than I have ever experienced before and I have overcome them. I have learnt, often the hard way, that it’s ok to allow things to fall into place naturally and it’s ok to slow down. My priorities have changed as I have met new people and my eyes have been opened to cultures and adventures that I couldn’t possibly imagine in London. This city girl, fell in love with nature and the mountains. She has stopped straightening her hair and wearing extensions and worrying about wearing cool clothes (although I do still dress well). I even stopped wearing bras because seriously who needs that and deleted stupid dating apps because no-one needs those. I guess what I’m trying to get at without sounding cliche is that although I don’t feel like I’ve changed as a person, I’m sure my old friends and family will notice how different I am immediately. I have learned and laughed and cried but ultimately leaving England was the best decision I could have made. As I opened my mind further every day, more love came pouring into it and more appreciation for the world we live in. The person I am on the journey of becoming has a greater hunger for travel and adventure. Yet the clear plan my former self had, has been replaced with an appreciation of not knowing what my next steps will be or where I will end up, and what I’ll be doing with my life. It’s interesting really, you’d think ‘finding yourself’ would provide clarity and a better definition of what you like and what you want. Instead I’ve found myself feeling less certain about what I thought I needed - and more curious to continue discovering what further lessons I will learn. I’ve merely scratched the surface of my journey and I can’t wait to see what this next year will bring.
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The First Christmas Away from Home
Christmas at my household always consisted of waking up in the early hours of the morning, getting excited about white snowy footprints from our window (certainly santa and not my dad’s invention) and opening a number of presents. I’d love to say this still happens, and I’m sure my mum would too, but of course as the years have ticked by and we grew older, our lie ins became longer and our excitement was replaced with a mature relief that we could spend the day in our pj’s and drink lots of alcohol guilt free. As with most households there would probably be a low-key argument and yet we’d still sit around the dinner table in time for the Queen’s speech and spend the evening nibbling on cold roast potatoes. I thought this day - every 365 days - would remain the same forever and yet this year I found myself on the opposite side of the globe. As many of my friends made their way home to their families around Christmas eve I found myself without any company and anticipating the prospect that I would be waking up alone. As the minutes ticked closer to midnight, 11 hours before my usual Christmas, I ventured to a nearby church to join in midnight mass. I’m not religious - in the slightest - but found a sense of comfort in using midnight mass as a means of personal reflection. It was hot and humid. The service was supposed to be candlelit but I have a feeling this plan was aborted due to the 35 degree heat and flammable clothing. I greeted Christmas day amongst a group of strangers and quietly slipped out before the donations box came around. I didn’t wake up to any presents or seasons greetings from family and instead made myself a huge fry up, opened a beer and danced around my kitchen to Christmas songs. In my lonely hour, I had also been invited by old friends to join in their Christmas Dinner later on in the day. I hardly knew these people and their offer was out of sympathy yet I was grateful. With a full breakfast belly, I caught the train to Hampton (Melbourne’s travel is free on this day). Arriving at the family home I was met by my friend, the parents were cooking dinner in the kitchen and a beautifully decorated 15 person table sat underneath a tree in the heat outside. I was immediately set to work, greeted into the family fold and asked to make sangria. They had named me the ‘Ice Queen’ as it was my job throughout the day to make sure everyone had ice and all the drinks were cool. I even received a present. As the day turned into evening more guests arrived, more friends and more lonely travellers. My adoptive family members often ran off to take phone calls and skype the Northern Hemisphere and as England awoke to rain and presents, we tucked into a traditional English Christmas Dinner in the warm breeze of Melbourne’s 38 degree summer sun set. It was a perfect evening full of drinks and an abundance of food, and I was lucky enough to not feel like I was intruding on a family Christmas - instead I was completely at home. The night ended with 15 of us driving to the beach at midnight with a cooler box full of beers and a starry night to gaze up at. This time of year is certainly hard for any traveller away from home, including me. It has been the first time I felt homesick, the first time I missed winter as I gaze at snowy pictures on social media and the first time I really wish I could have been back in Manchester to catch up with old friends. Throughout the day I was overcome with a number of emotions but I mostly spent the day reflecting on the people that have made an impact upon myself and the ones that have paved the way to guide me to this very point in my life. I had a fantastic orphan’s Christmas and I feel that it was something that I needed to do - but atleast I know that next Christmas I hope to be sitting on the sofa watching brain numbing Christmas TV with my family - wherever in the world that might be. It’s going to be 38 degrees here on Christmas Day, yet even though I'm buying bikinis instead of Christmas jumpers Melbourne is beginning to feel a little festive. There are a number of events around the city aimed at celebrating the seasons holidays from music, to people wearing antlers and santa hats and today I went to the Victoria Markets. This market place is a historical landmark and a fully functioning market place, yet in December it also transforms into a place of evening celebrations.
Throughout the month the venue hosts the Victoria Night Markets which are certainly worth a visit. As I hopped off the tram I was greeted by hoardes of families and groups of friends venturing into the market place and as the sun began to set, the lights turned on and I was welcomed to Melbourne's equivalent of Christmas Markets. There was even a cool breeze in the air tempting me to wrap up - perhaps reminding me a little more of home. There are reams of stalls selling hipster goodies from candles to homemade sweets all at the extortionate Christmas Market prices you expect. Hell, you find yourself thinking, it's Christmas so I'll spend some extra money anyway. Whats more appealing however is the food stalls. Instead of the smell of bratwurst and german ginger bread that you always find in the Christmas Markets in English cities, here we have aromas that extend further from around the world - with asian and african infusions you cant resist the tropical smelling meals. Add to that the appeal of a tasty dessert, the queue from the pavlova stand reached around 15 minutes back. With a $15 price tag, these pavlovas are rich in fruit and nutella and ofcours it would be a travesty not to purchase one whilst in Australia. Ofcourse there is one thing that wouldn't work at the Victoria Christmas Markets - and one thing I do miss from London. Mulled wine is something that you cant really experience at any other time of the year, yet is drunk by the gallon in cold December. Funnily enough the Aussies have that sorted with the reams of Sangria stalls that line the market too. Chilled, but with the same fruity taste, this city has completely embraced festive celebrations with the heat leaving me wondering whether I actually prefer Sangria anyway. I left the markets tipsy, with a full belly and feeling excited for the imminent Christmas celebrations. This year Christmas Markets have unfortunately made headlines for the worst of reasons and yet as I wake up to news of a potential attack on Melbourne landmarks this Christmas, I remind myself that this is the season to be happy and that wont be thwarted by fear. You'll find me happily hanging around all the sangria markets this month, on a beach in a santa hat and skyping the northern hemisphere with a bloody good tan. More like 1000 at the Kokoda Memorial Trail
Although having a car in Melbourne is almost paramount, I wasn’t going to let that stop me exploring the surrounding suburbs of the city - and with an entire day spare I meticulously planned a train journey to the Kokoda Memorial Trail, better known at The 1000 Steps. As it’s name suggests, the climb consists of a 1000 step staircase through scenic forests to commemorate the endurance of Australian soldiers against Japanese Troops in the 40’s. Although nowhere near as enduring as my Himalayan encounters, I was prepared for it to be a testing climb - although I wasn’t quite prepared for how testing my journey there would be. Google Maps predicted the journey would take somewhere over an hour to get to the trek, located in the Dandenong Mountain Range and I eagerly set off from Brunswick. After a quick train into the city I was informed that there was maintenance on the train line and that I would need to take a rail replacement bus. Of course my heart sank a little. As everyone knows, especially those who commute throughout London, that a Rail Replacement Bus should actually be named ‘a bloody huge inconvenience’ and you may aswell triple the time of your journey. Nevertheless I pushed on, eager not to be broken by Melbourne’s public transport system. Catching a train from Brunswick to Parliament, a bus from Parliament to Camberwell, a train from Camberwell to Lilydale and finally Lilydale to Upper Ferntree Gully, I finally arrived at the bottom of the staircase vowing that the next day I’d apply for an Australian Driving Licence. The journey in its entirety took me 3 hours. The setting itself was beautiful, quiet, natural and full to the brim with families, trekkers and healthy gym pant clad twentysomethings who seemed to be running up and down the stairs merely for fun. And in my non-climbing gear, with stares from surrounding trekkers, I embarked on the staircase Much like climbing in Nepal I quickly began regretting my choice, and as I began to work up a sweat passing the gymming pros and families taking photographs I quickly became stuck in a queue on a terribly narrow staircase. Unfortunately being a popular climbing option means that you are never alone on this staircase, but at the same time you have great conversations with fellow hikers. It took twenty minutes of steady stair climbing to reach a flat area of benches full of exhausted people. Catching my breath I quickly looked around to see where the next part of the staircase was but to my surprise discovered this was the top of the climb. Was that it?! Something that was meant to take an hour only took me twenty minutes. Amazed by my seeming excellent stamina I then walked further to a location called One Tree Hill - where unlike it’s name suggests - lies a picnic location enclosed by a forest of wild trees and birds, and not a viewpoint of the city below insight. It had been a beautiful day and as I enjoyed the warm sun and birdsong coming from the trees, it quickly dawned on me that I also had a three hour train/bus journey home that I convinced myself made up for how quick the hike took. As the evening quickly loomed I vowed to come again and ran back down the staircase - past budding gym bunnies and exhausted parents back to the train station. Fast forward three hours I arrived back home, dishevelled more from my train ordeal than the climb. Despite the travel trauma, the Kokoda Memorial Trek was certainly worth it. Its picturesque scenery and bbq spots mean its a perfect daytime respite from the hipster inner suburb of my Brunswick home. I’ll go again, perhaps with a map, and venture further into the wonderful woodlands - you won’t find me wearing gym gear anytime soon though. Christmas Day and Volunteering in Melbourne
It isn’t beginning to look a lot like Christmas here in Melbourne - not in the slightest. As the daily temperature soars to over 35 degrees and I spend most of my days working, the city seems to be lacking in your typical festive spirit (or perhaps I just think it doesn’t fit into place). Either way it came as a shock that Christmas is now only ten days away and although my Christmas cards should arrive on time, there is one thing that I appear to have left too last minute. This will be the first year that I am spending away from my family, away from a cold, blustery Manchester and away from my friends. Yet before I had even booked my flights to Melbourne I was convinced that wherever I should be spending Christmas alone, I’ll volunteer at a shelter and find some joy in bringing festive cheer to others. As I mentioned, it came as quite a shock that we were midway through December and so I jumped onto google, convinced that I could easily find a volunteer opportunity that is serving Christmas dinner for disadvantaged people. The first and largest shelter, Sacred Heart Mission in St Kilda, immediately came up as fully-booked and requested for people to not apply anymore for Christmas positions. This came as wonderful news and I was pleased that there was such a high amount of volunteers willing to give up their Christmas day for others (also being in the heartland of the backpacker area I assumed this would be the case). As my search continued many other shelters provided the same message, and to a great extent I was still pleased that there were so many hands on deck to ensure Melbourne had a great Christmas collectively. It was becoming clear that applying through websites wasn’t going to work so I then reached out by email to as many people I could think of about volunteering with their group, highlighting that I would probably be alone otherwise. As responses flooded in, many thanked me but informed me that they had received applications as early as August and all the positions were fully booked. This seems to be the case across the city, that if you wish to spend your Christmas Day occupied with such volunteer projects you have to apply half a year before. Similar stories have come from other cities such as Sydney, and it is clear that as many backpackers find themselves in Australia at this time of year, you are going to struggle to find a last minute position. It quickly dawned on me that the person who will actually be spending Christmas alone - might be me. In an ironic turn of events there are too many volunteers in Melbourne (or perhaps too many lonely travellers) and as we all seek to spend the day feeling anything but loneliness, some of us ultimately have had to be rejected. I have mixed feelings about this news and mixed feelings about the people who only want to volunteer on one day a year - leaving me wondering whether some backpacker volunteers will find an inward feeling of re-affirming reward after which they can spend the rest of the year getting drunk at full-moon parties. Nevertheless it is the season to be jolly, and I have 10 days to find a Plan B or look forward to an orphan's Christmas. Health Checks in Melbourne
Sex on the traveller circuit is quite an interesting subject - if you haven’t heard someone doing the dirty in a hostel before, well you haven’t stayed in a big enough dorm. Alongside nighttime noises we’ve all heard horror stories of unexpected traveller pregnancies and things simply going wrong. In light of this, sexual health is extremely important, not a taboo subject and I believe it is something I should address for anyone who is also on the road or settling in Melbourne for the time being. Don’t worry I’m not admitting any grizzly secrets. Today I simply took a trip to a sexual health clinic for a routine health check. The first thing to note here is despite Australia’s vast size the amount of clinics is extremely low. I am lucky to be based in Melbourne and the official sexual health clinic can be found in the city centre on Swanston Street, but it is indicated that it’s pretty much the only one of it’s kind in the whole of Victoria. Being one of the only public health centres, I was met with the gaze of about 30 people waiting to be seen as I entered the clinic. After a ten minute wait I was sent to a nurse who assessed the importance of my visit, who I should be referred to and the urgency of my case and then I was sent to wait for another hour. From first glance this is very much like the English process where you are expected to queue for anything that is free. The bonus difference with the Aussie system is that you can see how long the wait is as on a screen sits a list of numbers that will be seen before you do - great for time keeping! I eventually made it into the doctor’s room (perhaps quicker than a London wait) and informed her that I was here for a general check up. As conversation ensued I felt slightly uneasy, perhaps reluctant, perhaps judged a little more in comparison to our English equivalent. The discussion quickly turned to the cost of resolving any issues - a morning after pill (free in England) costs around $20, the contraceptive pill (free in England) will cost around $30 a month and an abortion would set you back the price of a flight ticket back home ($900+). To sum up, although as an English traveller I can use my medicare card to receive discounted treatments, it’s nothing like our NHS. The doctor also subtly told me how she had met a traveller who became pregnant and couldn’t afford a flight home, to which she shrugged in a ‘that’s her problem’ sort of way. After instilling me with a sense of unnecessary dread we then proceeded to check itself. Blood was taken and the examination was more thorough than anything I have experienced before (interestingly even a smear test was offered). The ordeal was quickly over and I left with a greater knowledge of the Australian medical system and a clean bit of health. Apart from the weather and unusual money (that still has our Queen on it) you seldom notice the differences between Melbourne and England. So when you do experience something that stands out especially in such a forward thinking city - naturally it has to be written about. I do believe that sex is more taboo here and sexual health is a lot less talked about. What I can take away from this experience is that you simply won’t realise how lucky we are have the NHS and free sexual health support in England, until you see the rest of the world. It’s 2016 and we simply cannot be ignorant of this part of our lives and not take care of ourselves. Travelling even to Australia means that we are to experience more fees, more restrictions and a different approach to sexual health. Had the check-up gone differently, like it does for some, you can find yourself with a hefty fee or a flight back home. Its 4pm on an idle Saturday afternoon in Melbourne's sunny city centre (CBD). The temperature reaches just over 22 degrees making it the perfect weather for T-Shirts and a tan, the tourists are out in full storm, sporadic Christmas decorations sit completely out of place and the mood is calm and relaxed. A perfect summers day on paper. As I walk past Melbourne locals enjoying their sushi and drinking afternoon pints I home in on snippets of their conversations when suddenly I over hear a brief 'these flies are horrendous' and the perfect summer bubble bursts. Around me, all I now see are people wafting the air and brushing their arm free of unwanted visitors.
As a former resident of England, I prepared myself for the risk of this country's creepy crawlies and killer animals yet nothing can set you for the sky bourne irritance that comes with the swarms of local flies - which are quite frankly beyond annoying. Its tough to explain the sheer number of flies that swarm around everyones face, aparently attracted to the sweet smell of our sweat (tasty). In order to possibly understand, I can only explain it as being constantly under attack by swarms/plagues of biblical sizes - you cant sit for a second without dozens of flies landing on your arms and legs - and some more rebellious stay stuck to you even when you run away. Even in between the sentances I write now, I am actively moving seats in attempt to confuse the hungry flies and one defiantly just landed on my face. There is some science behind the immense number of flies this year however. Having one of the wettest springs in a long time (I felt like I was in England) this has provided excellent breeding ground for swarms of unwanted insects, and luckily Melbourne isnt even the worst to be hit. Of course there are certain undertones of global warming that allude to the country's shifting climate - undertones that leaders such as Trump ridicule and Australia's Malcom Turnbull is slowly adding to his back burner. There really isnt anything for it and no amount of toxic insect repellant will prevent annoying flies or do any benefits to my skin. In true Melbourne style I have to just get on with the flies, embrace punching the air and looking like an idiot or purchase one of the hats with cork screws hanging off them as a deterrent. I guess my English comes out in true style through complaints about tiny, irrtating flies. I havent even begun to write, or experienced, the thousands of far more dangerous insects and animals that I am yet to encounter within this country - and I hope I never have to. This, atleast, is a warning to anyone who is yet to venture to Australia at this time of year... prepare for the flies. |
Tamara DavisonNepal, China, Malaysia, Australia, Argentina. Archives
November 2017
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