We Went to a Land Down Under

The drama with obtaining my Australian visa was worth it. More than I could ever have thought possible. What, for me, was meant to be a little break from the rush of teaching children and generally being an adult in Korea turned into one of the greatest moments of familial bonding that I’ve had in many years. We laughed. We cried (in happiness). We drank more consistently than I’ve drunk in a long time. And every moment was pure happiness and contentment. I could not have asked for more from a holiday.

After our less-than-ideal travel to the wonderful, bureaucratic country that is Australia, Kris and I greeted the James family, my relatives. We briefly discussed the inconveniences that had plagued us along the way, Australian border protection, and general pleasantries, before we went to bed. The next day meant the arrival of my mother, father, and brother from South Africa and belated Christmas on Boxing Day. I couldn’t wait, but I slept like a baby hopped up on sleeping pills out of relief at arriving safely.

The moment I had been waiting for for many months approached rapidly. We drove to the airport (back so soon after it all) and waited for my immediate family to arrive. While we waited, we entertained ourselves by people-watching the rest of the inhabitants o the airport at that point in time. One young girl in particular struck our attention. She was clearly an enamoured young lass, holding a sign that read something along the lines of ‘Paulo ❤ Anita; I cannot survive another day without you.’ The sincerity of her placard and her clearly eager face intrigued us. We wondered if the mythical Paulo would ever show up. We were so fixed on Paulo and Anita’s love story that we simply shrugged off my own family’s arrival, staying in the airport to wait and see if Paulo would arrive. He did. They kissed. It was cute, and then a little gross. We left. That moment of intense emotion felt by others has managed to stay clear in my head, even when the host of my own happy memories from the following days blurred together. Funny how that works, really.

The all-too-short time we spent in Australia was filled with more happy moments of bonding with both my immediate family and the James family. Here is a shot of us all, enjoying the aforementioned belated Christmas dinner.

We ate. We drank. We went on a trip down to the boonies in the Southern part of Western Australia. There, we drank wine, jumped off of jetties, and looked for kangaroos.

That poor rental bus.

For some context, I have met the James family in person only twice before. Both times have been in South Africa. Between their two visits, we have kept in contact and banter through Facebook. I would not have considered myself to be too close to them before the trip. After the trip, however, they rank amongst my closest friends, and we have all agreed to try and remain in much better contact going forward.

Oh, and we did finally meet kangaroos. Kristen was braver than I was. And more smooth.

While it was a refreshing to bond with the James family, some of my favourite moments were those brief periods of time I was able to spend with my mother, brother, and father by themselves. Whether it was talking to my brother about his plans for his current studies and plans for the future, talking with my mother about the rest of the South African family, or discussing my father’s work life, I treasured each second of personal time with these three people that I have known for my entire life (or, in the case of my brother, four years short of my entire life). I miss many people, but none more than them.

I could spend thousands upon thousands of words describing every moment and experience we shared. I could ramble about listening to awful Australian rap as New Year’s approached. I could rave about Australia, and how I now understand why so many South Africans choose to move there. Most of the time, I feel like words are at least equal to pictures in their ability to capture the experiences of my life. For my trip to Australia, I am not nearly a good enough writer to depict how blissful, joyous, raucous, and simply fun it was to be with those I call family. For now, I leave you with one picture, taken at a craft beer house, and a new horcrux of happiness for me. This is what happiness looks like. This is how I spent my entire break feeling. These are the some of the indescribable people I spent it with. I hope that all of you lovely readers are lucky enough to experience joy as pure as this. 

Three Years On

A little over three years ago, I met a girl. Met is almost too strong a word. I was in my favourite restaurant in the entire world, and she was a waitress at our table. I instantly found her table banter interesting. She went beyond that which was required of waitresses. Even though my friends and I arrived and ordered just before the kitchen closed for the evening, she remained cheerful with an edge of knowing sarcasm. Not to mention the fact that she radiated beauty, even after a long shift of serving people. Once I had left, I asked one of my friends who was currently working at the restaurant for her number. No, I didn’t even do it myself. I was a coward. Coincidentally, I knew that the policy for waitresses at the restaurant was to refuse all direct attempts from customers to get your personal information. So, in my cowardice, I managed to obtain her number where I would not have been able to had I been a little braver.

To my dismay, the young lady had a boyfriend at the time. I can still recall my frustration and despair at seeing the words ‘my boyfriend’ appear in the sentence of a text message later that evening. Nevertheless, I felt like she was someone that would be a positive addition to my life, regardless of whether our interests were romantic or not. I consoled myself, and resolved that friendship would suffice. A shade more than a month later, we were dating. And we are still together as I write this, one day over three years later.

This is the first photograph of us together. It was taken at an orchestra concert that I performed at. It seems like this moment was both aeons ago and just the other day. That is the weird thing about time, particularly in the context of our relationship. Memories float in the pool of my unconscious mind, much like the Pensieve used by Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter universe. They float independently of each other. When I think of an individual moment or experience, I can vaguely place it on some sort of timeline relative to other experiences, but I am surprised how often I am wrong. This was demonstrated last night, when we looked through the photos of us on Facebook. Things that I thought were relatively recent were revealed to have occurred years ago, and some new experiences seemed to have occurred long before they actually did. It fascinates me how time is nothing more than a construct, and one that our mind does not adhere to. We simply look into the pool of our memories, laughing or weeping at whichever floats to the top, before waiting to see what will surface next.

In the case of our relationship, I could do naught but smile at the moments we recalled last night over scrumptious fried chicken and a pint of beer. I love you, Kristen Bishop. I hope that I have the honour of doing so for the rest of my life. Happy anniversary!