That title is figurative and literal now. Friday was ANZAC Day, Australia's only real nationalistic holiday, and a very solemn occasion. I attended the parade and a service in town at the war memorial, and was struck by how serious and grave it all was. Yes, it's a day of remembrance for servicemen and women who have served and sacrificed in wars past and present, but it still struck an odd note with me. In the states, our Veteran's Day is about the hero, and how wonderful and proud we should all be to belong to such a strong and fierce country where people are glad to give the ultimate sacrifice. In Australia, it seems like the focus is on the loss of life, and what a terrible waste that is. A line from one of the speakers really stuck with me, that we should "speak less and remember more" on that day. In the good ol' U.S. of A, remembering veteran's isn't a quiet, reflective occasion, it's an invitation to crow on and on about how bravely they fought, how they weren't afraid to face foes in order to guard ideals and freedoms, and golly gee, don't it seem like 'merica is just about the greatest gosh darn place on planet Earth? You betcha! Can't help but laugh at stereotypical American culture when you see it from afar, strange and possibly creepy as it is.
Anyway...once I snuck away from the speeches and depressive mood at the memorial, the weekend was great fun. Papa came up from Melbourne, and we took Pasca, Blossom and Giselle to see the new Muppet movie one afternoon, where I discovered that my dad is apparently a supporter of the local theater. Good on ya!
Papa's happy influence continued to reign, including teaching the kids a few card games one night, and treating me to a ride on the tourist train down at the Sunday market. Finally! It's a wonderfully restored model from about the 1930s that goes to Bullarto and back. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride, for the gorgeous scenery we passed through, the beautiful car itself, and the knowledgable company. Sad it took me this long to go for a ride, but ultimately very glad to have gone.
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| A lesson in dealing and playing |
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| The train Papa and I took to Bullarto |
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| A closer look at my happy guide. Thanks Papa! |
Now it's one last week of routine, spending my last days with Tom, working around the house, playing at being a tourist and visiting all my favorite shops and cafes in town, and finally getting down to the real work of mentally and physically preparing for my departure. Been downsizing the load of things I'll be carrying back with me to the states, and trying to reach my goal of fitting everything I "need" in my pack. This means lots of things have already been piled up to be handed down to friends and family in town (know the girls will love some of the clothes I'm leaving behind), or given to the opp shop. It's such a freeing feeling, shedding things. Because they're exactly that, just things. Sure there are a few belongings that I count as treasure, but most of it is undeniably disposable, and I'm already looking forward to purging more when I'm back in San Diego. Attempting to live a mobile life is exactly the inspiration I needed to realize what holds real value in my life, and I'm happier than ever to be going home with that knowledge. It's only two more days until my mom and her husband arrive in Melbourne for a few days' visit, and then we're all off for Cairns, Sydney, and finally, Los Angeles. So excited to see more of this wonderful land, carrying as little as possible, and arriving back in sunny California.
