I was sitting in my hotel room at the Gold Coast, discussing the next day’s plans with my roomies Emmy and Jo. Jo mentioned trying to avoid rush hour in Brisbane, and I started laughing. Emmy turned to me and said, “I love you! Anything happens here, you say this is nothing, you should come to India and see!” I laughed even more and told her, “When you see rush hour in India, you’ll know why I’m laughing at Brisbane traffic!”
Emmy was an highly adventurous young Swedish girl. She’d left her boyfriend behind to travel alone, and despite some stabbing guilt at the fact, she was determined to try everything, which included scuba diving and bungee jumping. Jo, on the other hand, was far more cautious, preferring a smoke and a drink accompanying her loud laughter and group of new British friends. I had found myself with a curious mix of characters as I attempted to see Australia without the comfort of my own friends from back home. I had come on a fellowship at the University of Melbourne, and once done, took almost three weeks off to travel the length of the East Coast of Australia.
Travelling by yourself, even if you are with a group, is a wonderfully lonely and liberating experience. I went camping along the Great Ocean Road, sharing my tent with a 18 year old French hairdresser called Tressy. She was worried that by the time she went back to France, in almost a year, she would be out of touch with the latest French hairstyles. I spent hours sitting on a bus alongside Andreas, a German who runs a golf club in Nuremburg. He told me that he only listens to books on his ipod and was currently “reading” Steve Jobs biography. I immediately exchanged ipods and turned him onto The Killers, starting with ‘Andy, you’re a star!’ I befriended Nina and Puck, two Dutch girls I later caught open air concerts in Melbourne with. I met the wonderful Anne, in her late 60s, not letting the passing of her husband dampen her enthusiasm for life. She was perhaps the bravest person I met, ready to take on the physical challenges of trekking quite bravely. She also had a single room with a private bathroom which all of us made a beeline for! I met Steve, a Canadian student and history buff, who I drank and talked politics with. His account of Alexander the Great conquest’s, with the backdrop of the Grampian National Park, was one of my favorite conversations on the Great Ocean Road. The cast of characters kept growing as my experiences kept building, and in part they did because Australia just expects you to go have an adventure. Its that kind of place.
Unlike India, there is no long history of a bloody independent movement in Australia. There is no caste system, no glaring corruption, and none of the poverty that engulfs India so completely. From my perspective, outside of conversations about the problem of alcoholism, the country seemed to be healthy and happy. Australia was established as a British penal colony, after the explorer James Cook declared the island as “terra nullis” (no one’s land) despite it having inhabitants — the Aboriginals. Over time the convicts, many of whom had been arrested for petty crimes, were allowed to remain on the island as free men. Cities like Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, and Perth were established, while a large portion of the country remains uninhabited because of harsh terrain. The relationship between the original inhabitants of the island, the Aboriginals, and the European/British Australians has been complicated. A misguided attempt to mainstream Aboriginals in the 1960s resulted in the horrifying chapter called the “stolen generation” where babies were taken away from Aboriginal families and given to “white” families, with no contact with the biological family. In 2008, the Australian government made an official apology for all the past wrongs by successive governments to the indigenous Aboriginal Australians. But the ordinary (read: white) Australian seems removed from all this. The oldest buildings date only to the 1880s and there isn’t a majestic sense of history one experiences in India, or Europe or any of the old civilizations. There is, instead, a deep and fierce appreciation of all things natural, and lifestyles that don’t revolve around urban jungles. The country hasn’t been hit by a recession and the mining industry has kept it affluent. Beaches, mountains, farms and waves. That is what you can expect from an Australian adventure. The fact that it isn’t weighed down by a sense of self importance makes it one of the most fantastic experiences for a traveller. I felt that in Australia, more than any other place I’ve been to, you had to be ready to physically let go. Be ready to take that plunge.
I’m a journalist, so I’m rather used to travelling and meeting new people. But this was different. Outside of the holidayers (which would include me), the backpackers I met were so refreshingly different. All were either British or Europeans. Most were in Australia on work-stay visas which means that you can find a city, get a casual job such a bartender, make some money and travel again. And when you’re cashed out you rinse, lather and repeat. Many of them young — between 19-25 — they were going from city to city deciding where they’d like to set up base first. “I’m staying in Byron Bay for a few months to learn English,” said the German Anne. Best friends from England, Becky and Kim, hadn’t yet picked a town to call home. Everyone had a story that was a mixed ball of apprehension, adventure, homesickness, and enthusiasm. Kim and Becky both had similar reasons for doing this — one big adventure before they settle into what they imagine will be a routine life back home. It’s the ultimate “finding yourself” journey. I was marvelling at this complete freedom to just leave your home, come to another country with no job, no plan, not even a degree to fall back on (in some cases). Its helpful to be part of the exclusive “White” club which allows these kids to jump in and out of each others countries without overbearing and restrictive visa rules — and I have to say, I felt a little jealous. One evening, while were sailing around the Whitsundays, I told Alan, the resident hottie, that I can’t imagine doing the same. Indians — and only affluent Indians — often use studying abroad as the excuse to go experience other countries. And while its a rather generous gift from the parents, for the most part, its understood that the grades and resultant job better be worth it. The weight of expectations are heavy on our South Asian shoulders, with the entire family invested in your achievements. “My parents are so supportive with everything I do,” I was telling Alan, “but I can’t imagine them saying, alright, go to Australia for a year and discover yourself. No need to get a real job as long as you have adventures!” It just isn’t in our DNA.
This made me wonder if given the choice, would we (Indians) still be adventurous? (Without the added benefit of alcohol, I might add!) I spent a night at Kroombit Park, a cattle ranch. After an evening of successful clay pigeon shooting and some superbly embarrassing mechanical bull riding, I spent the next morning quad biking around the ranch. It was fantastic! Later, as I lunched with Al, the owner, I asked him if any Indians ever came around. (Keep in mind it is a beef exporting ranch, and he probably had a mini heart attack that an Indian had arrived in the first place!) Some, he said rather carefully, but they don’t like to participate. The further way I from my cultural reality, the more keenly aware of it I was. Challenge accepted, I thought to myself, I’m going to do whatever I can possibly do.
Mahima Kaul is a freelance journalist who loves traveling and documenting her experiences. She covers a range of subjects, but focuses on digital inclusion in India.