Pervasive Mateship

It’s now almost a month to the day since I left Singapore – my home for 28 years – and moved back to Canberra, where I last lived in 1971 and have visited on and off since. Not much has changed really. There have been changes made to the centre of the city, of course, and there is urban sprawl aplenty, but the relatively relaxed atmosphere prevails.

This is most evident in the way people take the time to pass the time of day and be generally friendly and helpful. I have been struck by the way the bus service operates here, for example.

Even in their design, everything in the way the buses operate is geared towards the needs of the user. As the doors open to let passengers in, the entry is lowered to enable them to step on or, more importantly, to allow wheelchair access. There’s a space at the front for baby buggies, heavy bags or walking frames, and front seats dedicated to wheelchair users or the disabled and parents with children. Even bicycle users are able to put their bikes onto a specially designed rack on the front of the bus and keep them secure during the journey.

But what has impressed me most is the helpfulness of the drivers. They get out to help the disabled, the elderly and people encumbered with children and shopping. I have also seen passengers lend a hand – and once this was a youth sporting a Mohawk, tattoos and multiple piercings, and another time it was a slightly doddering old gent, himself in need of assistance! Passengers and driver share a friendly greeting and leave-taking that is not just a formality but a genuine friendly exchange with eye contact. In once instance, a young man was talking very loudly on his mobile and, at a stop sign, the driver – also in his youth – turned and politely asked him to keep his volume down, at which the young man said “Sorry, mate,” and duly complied with the request.

In the shops and offices where I have had to apply for all the usual cards, licences and registrations, I have had more than the usual cursory exchange with the service personnel. Granted not all of them have been Australians by birth, but it is certainly a reflection of the general modus operandum.

Perhaps I have just not been here long enough to have sampled the ugly side of my fellow Aussies, but for now I am happy that my experiences have been pleasantly positive. It makes me miss the hubbub of the busy metropolis of Singapore a little less, at least.

Moons and blooms and other splendid things

Canberra, September 2008

As I was driving back the other day from visiting my mother in one of the northernmost suburbs, the sun made its spectacular exit from the sky in a display of burnished gold across the majestic outline of the Brindabella ranges and then softened to a soft glow to end the day. Other days, the sunset has been a palette of pinks and oranges. After close on three decades living on the Equator, I had forgotten how beautiful these extended displays of artistry could be.

On another occasion, I exclaimed aloud at the sight of a huge rainbow that arched across the dusty brown landscape after a brief rainshower. We even saw where it ended – in a field about 300 metres from the road which took us across country between the suburbs where my brothers live.

Spring is in evidence here in the trees in full blossom – clouds of pink and swathes of white against the black branches of recently hibernating trees. The wattles are in profusion, camellias putting forth their blousy blooms and the daffodils and other bulbs are nodding their heads welcoming the warmer weather and longer daylight hours.

There is not much green in this dry land and I miss the lush dark greens of the tropics but there is much to appreciate in the diversity of the plant life. Even the eucalypts are surprisingly different – from the ghostly white bark of the snow gums to the discarded skins of the stringy bark gums.

During the day, the chortling of the magpies, the squawking of the cockatoos, the flash of red and green of the rosellas and the gentle pink and grey feathering of the galahs all provide colour and interest.

And then when the night falls and envelops the city in its velvet cloak, the full moon illuminates the sky already carpeted with stars. Fortunately the lights of the capital city still provide little competition to the splendour of the heavens, and at night when I turn off my bedside lamp I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.