culture shock

I wasn't prepared for the shock of arrival at the place I'd planned for, dreamed of and struggled to get to. After packing and cleaning the house in Ballarat - stuff of nightmares and to raw and horrible to describe - and an aborted start to the drive, leaving Tom on the street in Adelaide and dashing with Dad across the continent in three days, the unease of Perth and the shopping for furniture, all of it came with me when I arrived here and undid me.

Looked at objectively this house, while on the highway and noisy, is cool, clean, small, within strolling distance of the beach, a perfect ‘Bess’ backyard and very little to do to maintain it all. But when I walked in here I was utterly traumatised by everything that had happened and had the strongest urge to flee as I’ve ever had. I was on my own and I just had to calm myself down, find the positives here and concentrate on them. But I wasn’t really able to feel okay about it all until Bess and I walked down to the beach that evening. The walk is along a tree-lined road, past well maintained houses whose reticulation sprinkles the footpath. At the end of the road is a parking area with a clean toilet block and a boat launch straight onto the beach. The beach – on the shores of Geographe Bay – is calm and warm. The water laps gently against the white sand and that first night, the almost-full moon was rising over the water. I walked east along the beach first, Bess in the water hoping a ball would miraculously appear, then when I turned back westward the fishermen were silhouetted against the setting sun. I was overwhelmed by how stunning it all was, how tranquil and relaxed, how much it felt like a holiday place. I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that I will live within bare feet walking distance from all this for at least 12 months, will get to see it in all weather and time of day. I haven’t taken my camera down there yet – like perhaps if I start sharing it, it will cease to be so beautiful – but I think I might tonight. I find myself looking at the clock, waiting for that magic time of the evening, but actually now I think about it, I can go anytime and then go again.

Today, for the first time on my own, I took Bess around to Dunsborough – some 15kms around the bay. We found an almost deserted swimming spot and dipped into the warm water – a lovely temperature from the heat of the day. I didn’t even have a towel; just air dried a bit then drove home. I ate biscuits and dip in my bathers on the back patio with a sandalwood stick wafting over me. Is this my life now?

…later

I did take my camera down to the beach and ended up getting there just after the sun went down. I knew a huge moon had to be rising at some point but all was dark on the eastern horizon. I took some photos (below), walked along and then gave up and turned back. Halfway back something made me turn and I was just in time to see the pregnant-orange moon plop over the horizon and swim above the faint lights of Bunbury. It was huge and dominating but silent and serene at the same time. I stood and watched it but it was also getting dark and I had to make it back along the beach and then home so we left. And now I’m home again – my first night on my own and it seems I’m going to have to get used to that again.