(no subject)
it is true, I am in Australia again. it's shocking how familiar it all feels, to the point where I sometimes have to actively search out little reminders that yes, it is in fact a foreign country. it honestly felt like I'd last seen Jamie yesterday and not nine months ago.
familiar doesn't mean grounded, though. I might not be all gaping and slack-jawed over trains (Melbourne) or waterfronts (Hobart) but that doesn't make me settled by any means. that sticky, sweaty, un-airconditioned 37 degrees in Hobart on New Year's Eve made me homesick as hell for winter on my parents' back porch with my brother and my dad, as this is one of those towns where more people own boats than A/C units. the rain cooled it all down, but I felt a bit crying drunk by the time the fireworks went off at midnight.
we settle in at night and that's when it all hits hard, that's when I lie on the couch with headphones listening to something cripplingly depressing (tonight: Pet Sounds) and let all the doubts and grief rise up, but then I'll wake up to smiles and coffee and as the day unfurls I'll see all kinds of gorgeous views (it's a holiday town, too) and I wonder how I could ever live without all these hills, or flowers -- the flowers, oh my, what a delight to finally stumble across the right season in this town. the bushy, colorful hillsides on the coast feel very Pacific Northwest. I've also become reacquainted with the country property -- we drove an hour outside civilization yesterday to help unload hay bales off a truck and the whole family was there, Jamie's dad and siblings and respective partners, and we were all sweaty and covered in little bits of straw and it wasn't exactly fun, but it was a well-deserved tea afterwards.
there's scattered frustrations (the "short walk" to so-and-so's place took an hour of hiking across hills in ballet flats, thanks a whole hell of a lot for that) but plenty of moments to remind me why I'm doing this, too.
familiar doesn't mean grounded, though. I might not be all gaping and slack-jawed over trains (Melbourne) or waterfronts (Hobart) but that doesn't make me settled by any means. that sticky, sweaty, un-airconditioned 37 degrees in Hobart on New Year's Eve made me homesick as hell for winter on my parents' back porch with my brother and my dad, as this is one of those towns where more people own boats than A/C units. the rain cooled it all down, but I felt a bit crying drunk by the time the fireworks went off at midnight.
we settle in at night and that's when it all hits hard, that's when I lie on the couch with headphones listening to something cripplingly depressing (tonight: Pet Sounds) and let all the doubts and grief rise up, but then I'll wake up to smiles and coffee and as the day unfurls I'll see all kinds of gorgeous views (it's a holiday town, too) and I wonder how I could ever live without all these hills, or flowers -- the flowers, oh my, what a delight to finally stumble across the right season in this town. the bushy, colorful hillsides on the coast feel very Pacific Northwest. I've also become reacquainted with the country property -- we drove an hour outside civilization yesterday to help unload hay bales off a truck and the whole family was there, Jamie's dad and siblings and respective partners, and we were all sweaty and covered in little bits of straw and it wasn't exactly fun, but it was a well-deserved tea afterwards.
there's scattered frustrations (the "short walk" to so-and-so's place took an hour of hiking across hills in ballet flats, thanks a whole hell of a lot for that) but plenty of moments to remind me why I'm doing this, too.