Katoomba, NSW, Australia
Blue Mtns World Heritage Area
7 August 2005
Almost exactly two years ago I sat in this very hostel with my sister. Tonight, I am here with my parents and my fiance. Although my experience of Australia is almost entirely different this time, being in this place again with family is seeming similar. They are different family-- and we are a different family now-- but in my parents' wondrous first discovering of Australia, I can recognize Angela's and mine two years ago. And in the continual process of their getting acquainted with their future son-in-law (and he with them), I can recognize my sister's and my getting to know one another as adults.
Travelling with family is an odd thing. Growing up, I travelled all over the country with my parents and Angela-- and I have often credited those experiences with fostering my broad perspective and open curiosity. We travelled so much and so far when I was younger that I still somehow think it should be easy, comfortable, habitual. It's not. My habits have changed, and so have theirs. Decisions and negotiations are made on very different terms now from the ones in force when I was a child. Once, on a family vacation out West, I woke up in the motorhome to the spectacular sight of Devil's Tower through my front window-- and I didn't have to do a thing... I wasn't even aware of it. Now, the roles are reversed-- on this trip especially, I know the sights, the tips, and the secrets, and I lead my parents to the vantage point and step back to see them gasp in wonder at the beauty of this world.
The end of my parents' two-week stay in Australia is drawing near. It has been crowded and often uncomfortable, both physically and socially. Chad and I have slept in hostel rooms, on an air mattress in our living room, and, once, in a twin bunk bed. We have all grown short-tempered, and we have all lashed out. But then, too, I have heard my father describe how the more time he spends with the man I'm going to marry, the more he thinks him an absolutely beautiful human being. My mother has seen me demonstrate skills of travelling and living in a foreign country that she never imagined her daughters would get to learn. And I have learned much about my parents' marriage and my own anticipated one by watching the four of us away from home.
The wind outside is howling-- it did that all night two years ago, the
last time I was here. Then, it was all so new, so foreign. Now, it is
familiar from both previous experience and an expat mentality: I only glance
at the cash before payin, I barely hear the Aussie accents anymore.
Sydneysiders come up here for the weekend, just like I do-- because I've
started to think of myself as a Sydney resident. Travelling with my family
I am reminded just how much of a Sydneysider I have become... how much I
know, how easily I understand, how similarly I sometimes think, how
different my view of the world from anything that I could ever have learned
at home. But, all this time with my family also reminds me how much I could
never really be a Sydneysider... how fundamentally non-Australian I am, how
fundamentally non-Australian I am, how strongly my life and my living is
anchored on the other side of the world.
This material copyright D. Ross, 2005
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