(Editor’s note: This was submitted by its writer (a former St. Joseph resident) as a guest column to the Newsleaders. However, it was too long so the editor decided it’s so interesting that readers so far from Australia would enjoy it. Therefore, we are publishing it as a human-interest feature story rather than a column.)
Yankee Down Under (this should be above the article as a header, like we do with Historical Perspective)
by Kat Field
Sometimes you wonder if there’s such a thing as somewhere else. Because when you try to go there, it always ends up the same as where you came from. But I recently found Somewhere Else. Where winter is summer and the language is the same but different and night is day and tomorrow comes before yesterday’s even over. As I write this, it’s still yesterday where you will be reading it. You are having signs of spring with some echoes of winter, but for me, autumn is just starting. Autumn and a grand adventure in the ever-green and exotic land down under.
I decided to pack up and travel to Oberon, New South Wales in the Blue Mountains of Australia. It wasn’t really on a whim, because a year ago I started to step back from my life and take a really good look at where I’ve been and where I was going. No one knows for sure how many shots we get at life, but in this particular body, I’m only going to get one. So as some chapters seem to be closing, I made the decision to actively write the outline for my next ones. I met someone here who shares my dream, and now here I am, 10,200 miles from the land where I was born. I have committed to a simpler and more straightforward life on this wild, wide-open planet. And I have never been happier, and the only thing I regret so far is not bringing a good, sturdy pair of boots.
I’m sure the things I find quaint here are mundane or even annoying to the people who were born here. Coffee is different. Everyone I’ve met so far drinks instant coffee with milk. I have yet to see a coffee pot where you pour the water in and put the grounds in a filter and sit back and watch it drip. In the States, instant coffee was always a last resort, for when you’ve swiped your finger over the dust in the bottom of the coffee can to get the last granules of coffee grounds for the cup that’s going to get you to the grocery store for more, and there’s still not enough to percolate. It seemed OK if you could dose it liberally with some Cold Stone Sweet Cream-flavored creamer. But here, in Oberon, it’s instant coffee. With milk. And I have to say, it really isn’t bad. It’s fresh and hot and strong and does the job. And I really don’t miss the creamer, or I guess I should say the partially hydrogenated soybean oil and preservatives.
Where I live in Oberon, I don’t have hot water, so I need to heat bottled water in a kettle on the gas stove for each cup. And I don’t have a refrigerator for keeping milk, so I’ve gotten creative with what I use to whiten it. Yesterday, I found whole milk sold in little drink boxes that don’t need refrigeration until they are opened. It’s interesting, because in the aisle that would probably hold all of the powdered non-dairy creamers in the States are all the different milk options, like powdered, almond and soy. I use Yellow Box honey as a sweetener. And when I get to sit on my step and look out at the valley and watch a mob of kangaroos go kangarooing by in the long grass while I drink it, it is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever enjoyed.
There is another beverage the Aussies (pronounced ozzies) have perfected – beer. Oh, their beer here! There really aren’t adequate words in the English language to describe the rich and smooth flavor of every brew I have tried so far. It really is a craft here and not something that is crafty because it comes in quaint, different-sized glasses. The Coopers, Carlton, Victoria Bitter, Tewhey’s and even the XXXX – all preservative-free and full-flavored like a malty brew should be, are poured up by the bartender with a full head of foam and beer dripping off the sides in plain bar glasses. There’s just no need for the kitschy mugs and steins; the beer speaks for itself. You can get it on tap, in a “schooner,” or you can get a “stubby” (a 12-ounce bottle). Beer lovers MUST visit.
English is spoken here, I’m pretty sure. Everyone is so friendly and laid-back, I haven’t encountered anyone yet who hasn’t been willing to point out my speaking errors and teach me the correct words for things. Our grocery carts are “shopping trolleys,” and when our batteries go dead, it’s called “going flat.” Our Kool-Aid is called “cordial” here, and when the shops are closed, they are “shut.” A counter is called a “bench,” and when you put lots or a bunch of stuff on it, you say “heaps” of stuff. When you take a break, it is called “smoko,” whether you smoke or not. And no one is OK here; everyone is “right.”
And so my adventure begins. Simple, free and honest. I am every day writing the next, and I’m not afraid to scratch it all out and start over if I don’t like the story. My next chapters are going to have laughs and struggles, and there is a really great love story in here, too. I am really and truly Somewhere Else. And now that I am, I am going to discover the real Somewhere Else that has been inside of me all along and is inside every single one of us if we can step back and look in the right places. So from one Yankee to the others, greetings from the other side of the world and stay tuned for happenings from the Never Never.
