The kindness of strangers

So I'm already back in the U.S. Just 2 months since moving to Australia (give or take a day or two) and here I am. Back again. In the last week I've been to San Francisco, New York and now North Carolina. Visiting people, spending some "QT" with my dog and getting a little work done.

My friends keep asking me, "How does it feel to be back in the States?"

And it feels...as though I never left. Apparently two months in a new country isn't long enough to feel like anything other than an extended vacation. So, consequently, Australia feels like a dream. And even moreso than usual.

Having arrived in Sydney shortly before Thanksgiving, it wasn't practical to come home for the holidays. Happily, I'd seen a work conference pop up on my calendar for January in NYC - perfectly timed - situated right between my stepfather's and mother's birthdays. Nifty.

But I wasn't quite ready to leave yet. I'd just settled in. And I love my new city. It's perfect. Not too different. But just different enough. Sydney could easily be in the U.S. Just a sunnier, more awesome version of an American city. With better beaches and accents. And mind-numbingly boring politics (as it should be). Oh, and cricket.

To those of you who haven't been to Australia, it may seem like a world away, but I swear its not. Just 15 hours on a plane and I'm back in San Francisco:

Movie + 2 hours (The Hurt Locker - good movie)
Sleep + 10 hours (I'm a pro & I have drugs)
Email + 2 hours (I. Heart. In-Flight. Wireless.)
And (having coughed up $10 to purchase an American magazine in Australia) People Magazine + 1 hour
= 15 and I hit American soil. Done & done.

Friends also ask me, "Do you feel at home in Australia?"

I do. And almost instantly. I felt like I walked off the plane and into my new life. A life that had been waiting for me all along...

But I was certainly nervous beforehand.

I'd gone on a 2-day speaking workshop in Marin a week before leaving. I was with fifteen other people, there to practice speaking publicly. Being ourselves and feeling comfortable in front of strangers.

Our assignment for the weekend had been to speak freely. Just to speak. Not to prepare. To stand up and let the words flow. To pause when we needed to pause. To let silence and vulnerability be our friend.

So I had.

For two days.

About my blind move to a new country...continent...hemisphere.

About how there was so much to do and so little time... how I was changing everything all at once.

It had felt good. To say it. To say it all. Without judgment.

On the last day of the workshop we were randomly assigned partners and told to simply look into each other's eyes for ten minutes. To just be. To not say a word. To connect. (Yeah, weird).

My partner, a stoic older gentleman, sat in front of me. I looked at him. Feeling awkward. Blinking. Self-conscious. And then slowly feeling connected. Seeing him. A person. Like me. Minutes went by. And then, speaking very quietly, he broke the rules.

"I want to tell you, I know how you're feeling. I moved here from Germany. I was frightened. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even have a work visa before I moved. My daughter was staying behind. And there was so much emotion wrapped up in that decision. I know its very hard."

I took it in. His encouragement.

"Know that there will be times when you feel lonely. When nothing and no one will feel familiar. When you'll wonder what you've done. But I've been listening to you over the past two days. And I want you to know. I know you're making the right decision. I can feel it."

I nodded, smiling. Obeying the rules. Looking into his eyes, his heart. Thanking him.

I knew he was right.