Musings from Melbourne
Its a little after 9pm. Yet, if I look outside the window, I see
nothing, and can’t hear a thing either. I walk out, and I find rows
of pretty houses, manicured lawns, and assorted Camrys, Accords and
Fords arranged neatly along a winding path. Its absolutely quiet,
with hardly a soul stirring. You see lights in the occasional living
room, and if you are lucky and the blinds are open, catch a
flickering telly.
I am in Hoppers Crossing, a suburb of Melbourne, but I might as well
be in a town along the Northeast corridor in New Jersey. The train
line is a ten minute bus ride or twenty minute walk, and the local
train dutifully follows the schedule and takes you into the heart of
the city, every fifteen minutes to half an hour. Its Melbourne’s
modernized version of the NJ Transit.
I am spending a couple of weeks here, taking a break from my travels
and attempting to relax and try and live a civilized life. While I’m
having success with the latter, the former is a little tougher. After
four months of scaring border officials, I finally got myself a
haircut, and my jeans saw the insides of a washing machine the first
time this year. I have three meals a day in a table on a kitchen,
wear clean socks, underwear, and actually use face wash and not soap
to clean my face. I still forget sometimes to change into PJs at
night, as I’ve gotten used to sleeping in the same clothes that I’ve
been wearing during the day.
When I got here I thought I would get some time to myself, not
rushing around taking in sights and experiencing the city life, and
provide me with the opportunity to catch up on my blog, post
pictures, etc. However, its been quite the opposite, as I’ve been
dragged into the suburban family lifestyle. My cousins here have
three kids, aged one, three and eight, and have discovered a
benevolent, inexperienced and extremely gullible babysitter in me. I
enjoy being with children, and for some reason they seem to relate to
me as well, must be something to do with my mental maturity! However,
what starts as a two minute ‘oh lets play piggy back’ ends up
becoming an hour-long yelling, screaming, hair-pulling playfest which
invariably ends up in one of the kids crying and everyone accusing
each other and a hapless wannabe world traveller in their midst,
desperately seeking help, and completely adoring them at the same
time. Kids really are terribly wonderful. I can see why people go to
such pains in order to raise a family, including moving to this
mysterious and crazy place called Suburbia.
A family and suburbia does crazy things to your life, as I’ve noticed
out here. First, the basic things in life take a lot more planning
and time. You don’t just decide to go somewhere and head out of the
house, You need to make sure you have baby food and water packed. Is
the baby seat in the car? Oh, and yes, you do need a car for
everything. Two is preferable. It takes about two hours to get a kid
ready, before they decide they need to use the bathroom, and then
repeat the process all over again. Shopping, is never a trip, its an
expedition. You never buy a small pack of anything. Its got to be
bulk. You can’t just stop and buy a coffee. You need to get ice cream
and hot chocolate for the kids, and next thing you know, that one
tiny cup of vice turns into a six item order. The regard I have for
my cousins keep going up several notches as I see them undertake this
battle every day. They do seem to enjoy it. Despite the hour long
commute each morning, the cacophony of childrens’ voices and demands
and games that greet them when they return, they would not trade this
for anything else in the world.
I’ve never lived in Suburbia. I grew up in Madras, a city of four
million people (at that time) in India, and now live in Greenwich
Village, New York. I am used to having several stores, open at all
hours, right outside my home. I am used to noise, blaring horns,
ambulances and drunk revelers making valiant attempts at disturbing
my sleep. I am used to walking outside on a sunny afternoon and
finding a cafe with Wi-Fi and cappucino. After my matchbox studio, I
feel lost in a large three bedroom house with a garage and a lawn and
a backyard. I’ve started running every day, and am hard pressed to
see more than ten people each time.
After a few days in the comfortable confines of my cousin’s suburban
home, and a couple of trips to the mall, I grew antsy and needed my
city fix. I took the train into Melbourne and felt rejuvenated. Here
was a city that seemed to have found the perfect blend between a city
and natural beauty. Lovely parks alongside skyscrapers. Wide
boulevards, people, shops, cafes, and runners. A lot of them. At all
hours. What’s more, they even have a golf course and driving range in
the heart of the city.
All-in-all, its probably been the most well balanced couple of weeks.
I’m enjoying the comfort of suburbia, while getting to enjoy the
city, spending time with family, being entertained by the kids, and
exploring a new city at the same time. My cousins, who love driving,
have been showing us around, and thanks to them I saw my first
Koalas, Kangaroos, Pelicans and Penguins on Phillip Island,
experienced some breath-taking scenery along the Great Ocean Road,
and roamed a weekend flea market.