Entradas etiquetadas como Australia
Cierre
Publicado por mevoyaaustralia en Cosas mías / My stuff el marzo 14, 2021
(English version below)
9 años en Australia. Sonrío inevitablemente cuando releeo mi post de 2014, mi segundo aniversario en Australia. Después de un año sin haber escrito, me preguntaba si había alguien ahí. Hoy, después de casi seis años sin las últimas letras, ya ni siquiera me esperaba a mí misma.
Constatado el vacío, me cuento que estaba esperando inevitablemente un cierre que tiene sentido desde que Me voy a Australia dejó de ser una intención, el blog de una periodista que viajaba. Creo que ya va siendo hora.
Antes de abandonar el barco, pensé en un blog que se llamaba Al otro lado, pero me había rendido a la inevitable burocracia que conlleva intentar quedarse en Australia. No pude darle espacio. Acometido el objetivo, con una interminable lista de altos y bajos, y con un pasaporte de color azul que carece de foto con sonrisa, no queda sino la reflexión. E inevitablemente mi vuelta al tópico de la inmigración.
Ser inmigrante ya forma parte de mi identidad. Darío Sztajnszrajber le puso palabras a algo que se iba abriendo camino en mis tribulaciones y que ha derrumbado una de las creencias que estúpidamente era inequívoca en mi vida. La identidad es una constante fluida, que camina contigo y se transforma con la experiencia. Puede cambiar, pero seguirá siendo la tuya. Y tú seguirás siendo suya.
Esa revelación es la prueba de lo que ya viene pasando desde hace tiempo: tengo amigos que no son políticamente afines; la nostalgia se ha disipado y aparece como un huracán un par de veces por año; tengo acento (acento latino para los españoles, acento español para los latinos, acento español para los australianos); tengo faltas de ortografía en español; me pido un café con leche en vez de una coca-cola con el almuerzo; me peleo a muerte cuando alguien llama paella a un arroz pasado con chorizo y guisantes; y tengo nuevos himnos: English Man in New York, Movimiento, Tabú, Internacionales.
Ya no soy yo, y soy más yo que nunca. Y puedo defenderlo.
A esto y a lo que sigue se le llama vida.
Closure
9 years in Australia. I cannot stop laughing when I read my post from 2014 about my second anniversary in Australia. It had been a year since the last time I had written a post and I was wondering if there would be someone there, reading. After six years from my last post I was not even expecting me.
Noted the void, I now realise I was inevitably waiting for an ending. It makes sense since the blog ‘Me voy a Australia’ (I am going to Australia) wasn’t an intention anymore, a blog of a journalist who was travelling. I think it was about time.
Before leaving the ship, I thought of creating another blog called On the other side, but I was really focused on the bureaucracy that trying to stay in Australia takes. I couldn’t give it the time. Once this was accomplished – with an endless list of ups and downs, and having in my hands a blue passport with a picture where I wasn’t allowed to smile- it is time for reflection. And this takes me irremediably to my recurrent topic of migration.
Being a migrant is inherent to my identity. Darío Sztajnszrajber clearly defined thoughts which were navigating through my tribulations, and which finally crumbled one of my very deep dysfunctional beliefs. Identity is a flowing constant, which walks beside you and evolves with your own experience. It can be different, but it will be yours. And you will be hers.
That epiphany reflects what is happening for a while now: I have friends with different political views; homesick is less frequent than before although I have few severe episodes here and there; I have accent (Latin accent for Spaniards, Spanish accent for Latins, Spanish accent for Australians); I make grammar mistakes in Spanish; I order a cappuccino instead of a coke with my brunch; I fight to death when people call ‘paella’ an undefined dish with overcooked rice, chorizo and peas; and I have new anthems: English Man in New York, Movimiento, Tabú, Internacionales.
I am not myself anymore, and I am more myself than ever. And I can stand for it.
This is called life.
The most incredible ninja (Eng)
Publicado por mevoyaaustralia en Cosas mías / My stuff el marzo 2, 2015
If you are a migrant in Australia -or just a migrant- I’m pretty sure you’ll find a lot of overcoming stories from ordinary people. They left their comfort zone and also left that ordinary label a while ago. Those stories have become really familiar to me. They are in my everyday context. However, I can’t make them small, as their strength hits me to make me realize how brave and determined these people are.
Some people can’t understand these life experiences as they can’t put themselves in our shoes, are jealous or can’t look in their own mirror. That attitude makes us feel judged sometimes. But seriously, I don’t care.
This is one of those stories. And the main character is Sarah Bürvenich, my bestie, a natural giver, an exceptional graphic designer, a fighter and always my favorite ninja.
I invite you to feel inspired. (originally published on medium).
It‘s A Jungle Out There …
For me, being in a zoo, makes me think of being ‘comfortable’. You don’t have to look after yourself, you’re fed, given water and even your cage is cleaned up every now and then. But in the (design)industry, ‘being comfortable’ doesn’t pay off in the long run — it doesn’t propel you forward. If you want to really develop you have to be … ’not comfortable’ for a while, and leave your comfort zone.
The first time I did so, was 7 years ago. I caught a plane and left Germany to work overseas. With a friend, I was heading to New Zealand, which is as far away as you can get (and that was kinda the idea). I had nothing lined up, I wasn’t prepared, but I was ready to dive in. The plan was … no plan. So it was a risk. But it paid off. For some reason, by luck or serendipity or because they were curious about a German so far from home, we had a job within three weeks. At a small agency doing the classic stuff: web and corporate. We stayed 8 months away from home, had adventures, and I spruced my CV in the process.
Five years later, I was at the airport again. Germany had gotten stale. And Australia awaited. This time alone, the decision was a bit more serious. I only had a one way ticket and all of my possessions in one twenty kilo backpack. (…) Keep reading
Image © Sarah Bürvenich
Burbujas / Bubbles (Esp / Eng)
Publicado por mevoyaaustralia en Cosas mías / My stuff, Tema libre el febrero 27, 2015
Hace dos semanas me pasó algo insólito.
Soy una controladora nata, que quede claro. Como decía, hace dos semanas llegué a casa y no quería pensar en nada. No quería saber nada del IELTS, del visado, de mi nuevo trabajo, de mis amigos, de cómo echo de menos a mis amigos, de mi familia, de cómo echo de menos a mi familia, de la maravillosa luz de Perth, de la soledad, de este blog, del inglés como mi segunda lengua, de mi teoría del vómito, de las celebraciones a las que he sido invitada, del ejercicio que debería hacer pero que no hago, de ser consciente de que soy humana, de la gente que me quita energía.
Llegué a casa y quería meterme en una burbuja. Todavía estoy dentro.
Bubbles
Two weeks ago something extraordinary happened to me.
I am a natural controller and, as I was saying, two weeks ago I got home and I didn’t want to think about anything. I didn’t want to think about the IELTS, our visa stuff, the new job, my friends, how I miss my friends, my family, how I miss my family, the awesome light of Perth, the loneliness, this blog, the English as a second language, me vomiting, the events I have been invited to, that I should go to the gym and I am not going, me not being perfect,the people who drain me.
I got home and I desired to be in a bubble. I’m still there.
Ese simpático teléfono / That friendly phone (Esp/Eng)
Publicado por mevoyaaustralia en Cosas mías / My stuff, Second language, Typical Aussie el enero 27, 2015
Acabo de empezar mi cuarta semana de trabajo y estoy felizmente extenuada.
La verdad, ya no me acordaba de qué era eso de prepararme la comida para el día siguiente, levantarme pronto para salir corriendo a por el autobús o tener un ordenador que me espera en la mesa todas las mañanas. Estoy aprendiendo a hacer mil cosas nuevas y, aunque no debería ser el trabajo el que me proporcionara la siguiente afirmación, me siento útil.
Y entonces va y suena el teléfono, y el mundo se viene abajo. Yo pensaba que había entendido a la gente con la que he hablado por teléfono en inglés, pero se ve que llevo tres años imaginándome conversaciones.Cuando descuelgo el teléfono y amablemente les digo «Buenos días -o tardes- le atiende Bego, ¿en qué puedo ayudarle?» la gente, simplemente, vomita. O al menos así me suena.
Estoy en ello, oiga, pero mientras tendrá que hablarme más despacio.
That friendly phone
This is my fourth working week and I feel happily exhausted.
I must admit that I didn’t remember how it was preparing lunch for the following day, waking up early to run after the bus or having a computer on the desk waiting for me every morning. I am learning to do a thousand things and, although working shouldn’t be the source of the next statement, I feel useful.
But then the telephone rings and my world falls apart. I believed that I had been understanding English conversations with people I spoke with on the phone, but it seems that I have been making up those conversations. When I pick up the telephone and I reply this friendly ‘good morning (or afternoon), Bego speaking, how can I help you?’ people on the other side just vomit. At least it seems so to me.
Hey, I’m on that, but I’d really appreciate if you could please slow down.
Celebrar el Día de Australia / Celebrate the Australia Day (Esp / Eng)
Publicado por mevoyaaustralia en Cosas mías / My stuff, Typical Aussie el enero 26, 2015
La curiosidad de mi primer Día de Australia da paso a un no-me-acuerdo-qué-hice-en-mi-segundo-Australia-Day y me deja a las puertas de un tercero. El 26 de enero conmemora la llegada en 1788 de los británicos a Port Jackson, Sídney. Fue el pistoletazo de salida del genocidio aborigen, cuyas consecuencias, siendo extranjera, soy capaz de ver y, lamentablemente, a veces sólo de intuir (desarraigo, condescendencia o exclusión social son algunas de ellas). Hasta 1967 la Constitución no consideró a los aborígenes ciudadanos y estaban regulados bajo la Ley sobre flora y fauna australianas. El Día del Perdón (National Sorry Day) conmemora y recuerda el maltrato a la población aborigen desde 1997. Pero no fue hasta 2008 cuando el Primer Ministro, Kevin Rudd, pidió perdón oficialmente a los aborígenes por los crímenes y por las políticas que dieron lugar a las generaciones robadas, por las que los niños aborígenes eran separados de sus familias en un intento de educarlos, socializarlos y salvarlos.
Partiendo de este contexto y del mío como inmigrante, me planteo qué sentido tiene que yo celebre este día.
Para empezar, no soy australiana. Soy española y me gusta serlo, es la cultura que he mamado, pero echar de menos el jamón y las croquetas no tiene nada que ver con ensalzar banderas. Si no lo he hecho con la española, no tiene mucho sentido hacerlo con otra.
Australia tampoco es un amante fácil de querer. Vivo, trabajo y pago impuestos en este país. Lejos de ser desagradecida, Australia me está dando una oportunidad que España no me ofrece en este momento. Estar aquí es una decisión personal, pero Australia no me está regalando nada. Este país es muy atractivo, tiene unos paisajes increíbles, pero que nadie se quede con la idea simplista de que aquí la vida transcurre entre surf y barbacoas.
La ciudad ha programado un montón de actividades para este día. No sé si todos juntos llegarán a un éxtasis espiritual que les haga olvidarse del pasado colonialista. Por si alguien no lo logra, todavía queda la posibilidad del alcohol. Ese día se bebe mucho y, por cierto, es la jornada con más incidentes del año.
Muchos me dirán que si no me gusta, aire, o que esto de hablar del día de la nación australiana sin ser ciudadana australiana es como hablar de cómo educar niños sin ser madre: un atrevimiento. Puede ser. Tampoco voy a abanderar un movimiento anti-aussie: soy capaz de sentarme en Kings Park y disfrutar de los fuegos artificiales, asistir a esa euforia nacional e incluso entender que muchos australianos celebran el hecho de serlo y se avergüenzan de la masacre.
Pero eso no me quita la capacidad de observar. Y esto es lo que yo veo.
Celebrate the Australia Day
I felt curious about my first Australia Day, I don’t remember what I did in my second one and now I face my third one. The 26 January commemorates the arrival of the First Fleet in Port Jackson in 1788. It was the beginning of the aboriginal genocide, whose consequences, as a foreigner, I am able to see and most of the times just sense (alienation, condescension or social exclusion to name just a few). In 1967 the Australian Constitution was amended and aboriginal people where recognized as citizens. Previously, they were governed under the Flora and Fauna Act. The National Sorry Day commemorates the mistreatment of aboriginal people since 1997. But no apology was offered until 2008, when the Prime Minister Kevin Rudd did it officially and mentioned the Stolen Generation specifically. This term refers to all the children stolen from their families, to raise them in a white race environment.
From this context, and as a migrant, I wonder what the point for me to celebrate it is.
To start with, I am not Australian. I am Spanish and I like being it. That’s my background and culture although missing the croquettes and Spanish ham has nothing to do with waving flags. If I never did it with the Spanish, I don’t think I’m going to do it with another.
In addition, Australia is not easy to love. I live, work and pay taxes here. Far from being ungrateful, this country has given me the opportunity that Spain is taking me away. I made the decision to stay here but Australia is not giving me anything away. This country is beautiful, its landscapes leave you breathless, but I wouldn’t like anyone to think this facile idea that life in Australia goes between surfing and going to barbecues.
The city holds a lot of events and activities for this day. I wonder if the audience will reach the spiritual ecstasy that allows them to forget its colonialist past. Just in case they are unsuccessful, there remains the alcohol as an option. That day people drink a lot and it is the day which registers more assaults by far.
I can be told that if I don’t like it I can go, and even that talking about this without being Australian is like given my opinion about raising children without being a mum: an insolence. It may be. I am not going to lead any anti-aussie movement: I am capable of enjoying the fireworks, attending the national euphoria and even understanding that a lot of Australians commemorate the fact of being Australians whilst feeling ashamed of the slaughter.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I can observe. And this is what I see.
My four basic words
Publicado por mevoyaaustralia en Second language, Typical Aussie el enero 19, 2015
You got it. Yeap, OZ means Australia. And you also got that there is a non-ending list with acronyms, abbreviations and shortened words that you will need to survive in Australia. There are a lot of lists you can consult. But these are by far my favorite four (the meaning is courtesy of the Oxford English Dictionary).
Oh my God!
colloq. freq. in the language of electronic communications. Expressing astonishment, excitement, embarrassment, etc.:
What the fuck?
esp. in the language of electronic communications. Used to express incredulity or annoyance:
Laughing out loud… and also Lots of laughs
colloq. Originally and chiefly in the language of electronic communications: ‘ha ha!’. Used to draw attention to a joke or humorous statement, or to express amusement.
I left them here, FYI.