The Tragic Inevitability of the Passage of Time

The sun is out, the wind is warm, and Australian summer is on its way. Blustering breezes and blistering heat* propel us along Heidelberg Road as we cycle towards Parkville, bags full of books and eyes on the sky. It is getting increasingly difficult to study when the world outside the library window is such bright blue.

Despite having reached the final week of classes, I’ve been surprisingly relaxed. This is not St Andrews. No claustrophobic cobbled streets, no gusts of wind pursuing you down them. I am so much happier in a city. And yet there are things I miss about St Andrews. I miss the small classes and knowing everyone’s name. I miss Classics and studying texts rather than Ancient History and archaeology, my subjects here. I miss my friends and the bizarre small-world sense that somehow everyone knows one another. Perhaps I am glad I was given a semester abroad rather than a year.

No. I can’t type that sentence honestly.

Since coming back from Tasmania I’ve just been living. Little else. It is so wonderful just to be. I lay in the brown-sugar sand at Brighton Beach and swam in the Tasman Sea. I explored the painted, café-crowded laneways near Flinders Street and ate doughnuts in the sun by the Yarra River. I danced in the train station, danced in the kitchen, danced in the laundry room. I mistook a lizard for a snake, twice, and saw my first huntsman spider. Summer is coming, and with it the beasts they all warned us about.

*25 degrees does not actually blister me. No sir. I’m just taking poetic licence. And marveling at how this isn’t even summer yet.

Winterbourne, who supported Patrick James when I saw him live back in August, have released their first music video! They are up and coming and kept talking about how much they hated Geelong (a nearby city which is not, to my shame, pronounced the way it looks), having had an unenthusiastic crowd at their gig the night before. Have a listen. They're pretty fab, and Geelong evidently didn't appreciate their talents.

Lewd and crude, this week's instalment of Top Quotes contains three whole swears. Cover your eyes and ears, young children.

-

“Nobody should be self-conscious about how they look. I
don’t care if you walk into the room with a boat on your head like Marie
Antoi-fucking-nette, I won’t judge you.”

Through a mouthful of someone else’s food: “Why would you
leave chips in the Games Room if you don’t want them to get stolen? Like, come
on. You had to see this coming. It’s not my
fault. Get your shit together.”

Scrawled on a library desk: “When I die bury me next to
bitches.”

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

The daily journey into the city has been a bit of a nuisance. Fifteen minutes waiting for a perpetually late bus which takes half an hour to get to campus. I'm, like, so done with that, man.

It’s week 9 and I’ve finally sorted out both my life and a bike. (Zeugma.) Better late than never, right? A great thing about res is being constantly surrounded by helpful people. With the aid of a few res-mates, I now have a third-hand bike complete with helmet, seat, and working brakes – all without spending a cent. I bought some lights and a lock for a total of maybe $40, and, after a few chicken-outs, am finally on the roads.

I’ve never cycled in a city before. In St Andrews, I’m never on the road for more than fifteen minutes at once. There are two lanes and some nice shortcuts through the park. Here we’re a clattering crocodile of uni-bound cyclists as lorries zoom past the bike lanes of main roads. We set out in sunshine and came home in pouring rain. It’s real city cycling.

From my so far limited experience, Melbourne is very cycle-friendly. There’s almost always a bike lane. Helmets are a legal requirement. We left res as a group of four, but by the time we were nearing uni we were part of a flock. Melbourne is not really a public transport city – I’ve never been somewhere before where I’ve actually seriously wished I could drive. But though it’s a car city, it’s also a bike city. I hadn’t realised until this week how much I’d missed having my own wheels.

I’ve spoken a little about how things are different in Australia to the UK. But it’s not all external – I’ve noticed I’m pretty different in Australia, too. I’ve had a chat with some other internationals about this, and found that, in different ways, we’ve changed.

Or maybe we haven’t changed – maybe different aspects of our personalities are just emphasised. It’s funny how malleable you are depending on the situation. Priorities change when you’re somewhere big, when you know your time is limited.

In St Andrews, I’m rushing everywhere. I leave the house at eight thirty in the morning and return home no earlier than ten at night. I’m active and outgoing, my days meticulously planned and constantly busy. I thought I’d be like that here, if not even more so.

Instead, I’m quite happy just soaking it all up. I’m floating slowly through life, enjoying the little things: cooking in the shared kitchen on a busy weekday evening, wandering through the city with no clear purpose, spending time with the friends I’ve made rather than being constantly on the lookout for new people. It bothered me when I first noticed it, this newfound quietness and slowness. But it’s an appreciation for the small things, I’ve decided. Quality over quantity. In St Andrews, you have to seek out entertainment – but Melbourne itself is entertainment enough for me. 

Every week, the uni hosts two bands. Some of them are local, some from further afield. There's free beer and a barbecue - with classic Australian hot dogs made from sandwich bread. Broods, an up and coming New Zealand band, played in one of the first weeks, and I've been listening to them a fair bit since. Lend them your ear - this music video landed the same day I did.

Off to Tasmania tomorrow. Have yet to pack or even write a to do list in preparation. I don't even know what time the flight is apart from somewhere in the broad region of 'afternoon.' Time for an adventure.