I found myself wide awake at 4 in the morning, not due to stress or worry, but rather the effects of jet lag. Just a little over a day and a half ago, I was in Sydney, Australia, visiting my two elder daughters, accompanied by both my husband and our youngest daughter.
Our journey home was extended due to an unfortunate flight cancelation from Sydney to Doha as a result of the Israel-Iran conflict’s drone attacks. We were fortunate enough to have our itinerary rerouted via Singapore instead of Dubai; we were spared from getting caught up in the airport floods in Dubai.
I was unable to enjoy the stunning beaches of Coogee, Bronte, or Bondi due to an unfortunate incident just a week before I departed from Dublin. I broke my wrist whilst out walking the dog in the park. I was simply relieved that I could still make the trip at all.
As an Irish emigrant, it’s stereotypically expected of me to engage in talks centring on James Joyce and Seamus Heaney, not mundane things like butter. I am, however, overjoyed at having been able to see my girls – their absence at home is quite noticeable.
It’s reassuring knowing they travelled with their respective boyfriends. Alannah, our eldest at 25, is settling into her second year in Sydney after completing mandatory three-month farm work at a fertiliser plant in the isolated Mildura region of Victoria, Australia. Cliona, our middle child at 23, just moved to Sydney a few months ago and is already considering spending another year there. Who could blame her? These past months have been challenging for their age cohort.
Covid has thrown their life plans out of gear by about two years. They’re compensating for this delay with newfound determination. Watching them grow independent is a proud milestone – isn’t that what we always wanted for them? To leave home, and carve out their own paths in life. Admittedly, I hadn’t envisioned their paths leading them to the other side of the world.
Canada or the United States would have been more palatable choices; either would be cheaper and easier for them to return home for special occasions, like their younger sister, Ella’s 21st birthday, coming up later in the year.
Personally, I’ve always been one for the comforts of home. I enjoy travel, yes, but there’s nothing quite like returning home after a long journey. I’ve felt this way for as long as I can remember.
As a student, my time spent in Munich, Cape Cod, and Lyons under the Erasmus scheme were unforgettable summers, but were always tinged with a sense of longing for home. Being away was both a wonderful and struggling experience. The anxiety typically wore off after crossing the halfway milestone of my stay, a sign I was nearing my journey home. Thus, I can conclusively say that not everyone is cut out for overseas living.
It’s something that can only be discovered through making the leap. Curiously, our two daughters don’t seem to suffer from the same affliction of homesickness. This is fortunate, given that relocating to Australia is not a cheap experiment. It seems they’ve inherited their father, Gary’s, spirit of adventure. He would joyfully take up residence in Australia, or anywhere boasting warmer temperatures and more opportunities for outdoor pursuits than Ireland.
[The tendency to both idealise and grumble about Ireland is a classic trait of its residents – yet this duality dissipates once you live away]
My deep-seated love and respect for my friends and family are the reasons why I chose not to relocate. Simple as that. While possessing strong social skills makes it easier to forge new friendships anywhere, and technological advances like FaceTime and WhatsApp have eased remote communication, nothing can replace the warmth of an in-person embrace, the delight of spontaneous chats during a walk or over a coffee, or the late evening conversations held over dinner and wine.
We managed to savour all these, including outdoor lunches, jaunts, and even ice-cream treats, whilst enjoying ten gorgeous days in Sydney as a family unit.
On our last evening, after a day at the beach and admiring the sunset, I caught sight of our three daughters chattering and giggling amongst themselves as they walked back to our apartment. Longingly, I wished we’d been vacationing in Portugal and each one of us would be boarding the same flight home the next day.
Bidding our daughters farewell once more was indeed a wrench. The uncertainty of our next reunion made it even more difficult to bear.
Just the day before, a ghastly incident had occurred where a man had fatally stabbed six individuals at Westfield shopping mall in Bondi Junction. Our daughters, Alannah and Cliona, had visited the same mall just two hours prior to the event. Despite having previously remarked on Sydney’s apparent safety, receiving this devastating news was a stark reminder of how unpredictable life can be. Whilst these unfortunate incidents can occur anywhere, I was relieved to be physically present with my girls, knowing they were unharmed rather than waking up to the horrifying news miles away and fearing for their lives.
All through the course of the week, at some point in a day, there wasn’t a moment we wouldn’t find ourselves in that shopping complex. Almost around the corner from where Cliona stays, the mall is adorned with ravishing fashion boutiques and eateries, stretched over its five levels. Interestingly, many voices you hear around the place are filled with the Irish accent. The absence of an Irish individual among any of the ill-fated victims is surprising indeed.
As per earlier data this year, a striking count of 22,000 Irish citizens were bestowed work permits to Australia within the period of a year. This makes us ponder over what’s luring and holding them back in the foreign land?
Several of them already have their companionship circle which provides a comforting and recognisable social life, denoting home. For a few, the allure lies in the pleasant climate and promising outdoor life.
One morning, we stumbled upon a group of mates engrossed in their coffee meet, cherishing the sunrise at 6am. Others were spotted indulging in fitness regimes, be it jogging, swimming, walking canines, or pushing strollers, several were seen doing yoga. All this hustle-bustle was a pre-condition to a day full of work proceedings. The emphasis on a healthy and physically fit lifestyle is significant to blend into the Sydney lifestyle. Even if you land there unprepared, it is certain you’d be leaving the fit version of you, even if it was just a vacay.
Meanwhile, I managed to return to Ireland, where the weather is grey, dreary and chilly, something I’ve come to terms with.
My first appointment was with my octogenarian mother who resides opposite to us. She had company in the form of friends and relatives who made sure to visit her, treat her with meals and ensure her solitary time was pleasant while we were away. Although I ensured my daily calls, her physical presence is something I dearly missed.
I endeavour to meet my close associates in the coming few weeks, perhaps for a stroll, or over tea, lunch or dinner. I aim to share with them my daughters’ journey in Australia, my pride for them in marching ahead for work and living quarters on the opposite side of the globe and about my worries for their wellbeing. Equally, I anticipate their safe return someday.
Author of The Pitch Coach, Catherine Moonan is a Dublin based edifying personality who has also played the role of the pitch coach for Dragons’ Den and is operating from Santry.
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