Friday 8th February

Friday 8^th February

I had a nice chat with Pete’s friend Dirk Meure on 2XS, on our Apostles trip to Maryanne Bay.  He came out from Holland with his family in 1950, when he was six; the same year I came to Australia from Holland with the smallest family possible – Mum, Dad, BabyMe.  We talked about the challenges our parents faced, living in 1950s Tasmania – HUGE culture shock…especially, I think, for the women.  Not many years down the track and everyone , in both families, was very happy with the move.  His father died recently, at 96, saying, firmly, “I made the right decision bringing you all to Tasmania, didn’t I?”  My father, still very much with us, says the same.  And yes indeed they did make the right decision!

In her blog this week Mia Freedman wrote about her father becoming an Australian citizen.  He came out with his family from South Africa when he was 22, although they lived a prosperous and happy life there.  They found the social injustices too much to bear and made a new life in a very different part of the world.  I was very taken with what she wrote, especially this:

…they arrived in the late 60s, in Sydney, and went straight from the airport to Bondi beach.  My father had $100 in his pocket.  One of my father’s happiest days was seeing a newspaper headline.  In South Africa, they were accustomed to seeing daily headlines like “TRAGEDY: 100 killed in new race riots”.  In Australia one day, he saw a newspaper that said: “TRAGEDY: Australia loses to Britain in the 2nd test”.

And not for one minute of his life since the day he arrived has my father regretted or even paused to reconsider his choice to become an Australian.

This was part of a Citizenship Ceremony speech she made in Sydney, in which she quoted Harry Potter… It’s well worth reading on www.mamamia.com.au!

India #83

It was quite a shock for Pete and me to be back in Mumbai.  There is a big thermal inversion over the city which makes it hot, humid, oppressive.  We felt dirty all the time.  By the end of the day, my hair, newly washed in my little bottles of Indian Herbal Essences and/or Fructis, felt like steel wool, and my nose, ears and eyes were delicately coated in a film of grunge.  Udaipor had been hot but the air was comparatively clean and fresh.

Pete and I settled into our new room in the club.  It was the first time we had had a kettle in our room since leaving Australia and I felt quite giddy with the pleasure of being able to boil up cups of weak black tea.  There was a small supermarket-type shop on the premises so nothing was impossible!  More little bottles of shampoo, tea-bags, bananas!  It wasn’t actually a luxurious place to stay, nowhere near as beautiful and splendid as our places in Jaipur, but – a kettle!  Bliss!

We had arranged to meet Vish and Mary down in the bar, so once we were clean we made our way to the bar, which was heaving with smartly dressed waiters.  One of them led me importantly to a seat – “This way, Sir!” he shouted.  Well they’re not used to having woman in the hallowed inner sanctum of the club, are they?  We had several waiters at our bidding.  The main one was a very large man who confided in us that he just loved animals and had many in his home village.  I went through a list – tigers, polecats, wolverines, bears?  Yes he loved them!  He asked us where we were from, and instead of crying out, “Ricky Ponting!” or “David Boon!” as 95% of Indian men did, he was thoughtful for a few minutes, then said, “You have a very rare animal called the thylacine!”  We were mightily impressed.