Lost in transit

ID2

I've never bought a one-way ticket before. It has a very odd ring to it.

In that and just about every other way, this latest expatration of mine is completely different from my last one. Last time I knew almost nothing about the Czech Republic other than that the word "Prague" conjured up all sorts of romantic notions that seemed to fit perfectly the idea of life in Europe. I'd spent only about 4 days there, and that was about 4 years earlier. I spent almost a year saving up; read everything I could about on the poignant history of the Czechs; tackled the first half of the Teach Yourself Czech book (and tried to figure out whether it was easier to write the accent marks as I went or after I finished a word). I was going to live there not-quite-legally on a tourist visa, i.e. the stamp in my passport, which would simply mean a train ride out of the country every 3 months to get it restamped, no problem. What would I do with myself there? Why, live cheaply off my savings, sit around in cafes with the intelligentsia, work on my novel, journal and photograph and dream and all those quaint, artistic things a Lost Generation Xer is supposed to do. I had no idea whether I'd end up staying there ten weeks or ten years; all I knew was I was going.

Of course, then I got there and found that things weren't quite so cheap any more, unless of course you didn't mind living in a crumbling Communist apartment block out by the airport (I did); my newfound friends were all too busy working their jobs to sit around in cafes or write books (although there was always time for boozing up at night); and I had to find work myself to stanch the flow of koruny and the ever-falling dollar rate.

This time, on the other hand, I'm off to Australia after only 3 months of organization — to a place where I've already lived for 4 months out of last year. I already speak the language (well, sort of), I already know my way around Melbourne, and I'm already relatively familiar with Australian history, culture, customs, etc. Instead of lounging in cafes I'll be spending my (first?) 18 months there in school, dealing with term dates and assignments and getting good grades. And of course I need a proper visa this time, which so far has cost me more than my plane ticket. (And I'll have to pay another few bucks once I start school if I want to upgrade and be able to work part-time.) If I decide to stay, then I'll have to pay another wad of cash to get a proper work visa, but at least I'll be able to get a better jobs than I could've in Prague, and I'll be living and interacting with the native citizens, instead of only other expats.

Although part of me still wishes I could live in another country that was, I don't know, more exotic seeming. I don't mean that as a put-down on Australians, of course; one of the things I like about Australia is how it's different enough to be another country but familiar enough to make living there much more comfortable. And it will be a big relief to not have to struggle with technical business words in another language (as you find when signing leases and ordering utility services), and to be understood easily in stores, in class, etc. (Even if I do have a funny American accent.) But one of the reasons I always wanted to live abroad was to become fluent in something besides English, and Australians, like Americans, don't generally have the real need to know another language. And of course, Europe will always be, well, Europe to me, a mysterious land of densely-packed cities and medieval buildings and a million languages, where every shopkeeper is a philosopher and every streetscene an oil painting. Then again, in Australia I can get vegetarian food and nice weather and friendly smiles from strangers, so in many ways life will be more pleasant, anyway.

So, I've got a ticket. On July 4th, almost 2 years to the day since I left for Prague, I'll be off again — missing my family and friends but with a new country and a new life. Call it a coincidence, or call me sentimental, perhaps, but I guess you can also call it my second Independence Day.