The Magical World of Oz

Five days (and counting) to go before I leave Melbourne for the Philippines. It’s quite obvious to anyone close to me that I’ve been waiting and itching to get back home from the moment I got here. And yet… I find myself feeling a little sad for leaving. I think Melbourne has done what San Francisco, Hanoi, New Jersey and Jakarta was not able to do. It made me fall a little in love with it.

And what’s not to love?

If I look at my feelings closely, I realize that I yearn for the Philippines only because my family and my friends are there. But, if, miraculously, I could transport them to somewhere, it would be here, in Melbourne.

Primarily because of the people. Here, trust still exists. Perfect strangers smile at each other while walking on the streets; young men still, theoretically, open doors for you [they don’t really pull open the door, since most of the doors have sensors, so its either they pull out their ID to open it for you or stand in the sensors]; waiters, janitors, truck drivers are treated (and treat you) with casual friendliness without agenda. In fact, the only people who have ever treated me in an untoward way, were, sad to say, immigrants [I assume they were since, one, was an irritable Chinese who barely spoke English and the other was Greek who cheated me out of A$0.40 cents]. Everyone else was polite – more than polite, they were friendly. And it’s difficult not to be affected by it. My biggest concern now is that when I get back to Manila, I’d be smiling and asking “How are you doing?” to everyone I see and meet. And probably end up having my purse stolen or something.

That’s also one of the reasons why I like it here in Melbourne. I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life. Even when I was in the shady part of city, where the street lights were dim and I was walking all alone, I was never really afraid for my welfare. Sure, I was depressed to be walking alone, but, I wasn’t really afraid. Mainly because it’s not uncommon to still find people, young, old, Asian, walking the streets with you. You’re never really quite alone, if you really look for people. Even the cars don’t seem that dangerous – pedestrians are given right of way all the time (even though they could just speed up to “overtake” pedestrians).

Another reason why I had fallen in love with this city is the culture of the business. Here, people work their butts off from 9 to 5, but, after a certain time, people leave and go home. You would hardly see anyone doing overtime, because companies and corporations believe in family as much as they believe in their incomes. It’s also only here did I see a company have a dedicated group looking out for the welfare of their employees – they think of the simples things, mostly, that add up to being a great deal – free fruits on Mondays and Thursdays, barbeques for lunch once every month, free samples (soon to expire, but, really, who cares?) of the company’s products in the fridge, a coffee/hot chocolate (yum!) machine (for free, no coins needed) in the staff kitchen. It’s the kind of culture you’d love to work in – because you’re not graded on the merit of the hours spent, but on the merit of the work performed.

But of course, every paradise has its share of snakes. In Melbourne, it’s the absolute lack of a night life that bugs me. Sure, the city is still awake after six, but the surrounding areas (that is still part of the city, mind you, just not the heart of it), is already fast asleep. If you plan to have dinner after 6, you’d have to take a tram ride to the heart of Melbourne to eat. And then, of course, there are the movies. Movies here cost A LOT. Even more than in the States. Back in the US (at least, when I was there) you can at least choose to watch the matinee for almost half the price. Here, there is no such thing. A movie ticket would cost you A$15 (roughly translated to P600) and that’s excluding the popcorn and the coke. And of course, the biggest snake of all, the weather. I’ve been told that here in Melbourne, you could four seasons in one day. And, as I’ve spoken about extensively in my previous blogs, the cold weather and I don’t jive. I’d rather be in warmer climes than here, never mind the fact that the trees turn into wondrous hues of orange and gold, and that leaves in the park fall like rain to the ground. It’s not worth it when you have chapped lips, dry skin, cold hands and shivering toes. At least, not for me.

All in all, I’m glad to be going home (finally). I’m excited to hug my husband (I’m teary eyed just thinking about it), of bantering with my fellow monkey, of giggling over idol with my in-game sis, of talking about life in general with my strength, of discussing possibilities with a young wannabe monkey (but is really an ox). I can’t wait to taste the over buttered and garlic-ed prawns in Dampa and the salty charred liempo. I’m excited to go back to the game I’ve missed for so long, to join the litcritters again, to sing my sad songs during karaoke. And of course, to taste Mocha Java again... Yum...

I guess there’s no place like home.