Several years ago, I made my way to Australia, under the name of overseas study, which was actually unaccomplished. On the other hand, I have experienced wild aspects of life there outside the boring campus. To this day, perhaps for the reason that I have not been successful back home in China, or to a lesser degree, I am not professional kind at all, the days spent in that alien landmass for a young Chinese seems so exciting and reminiscent, that I feel bound for a work like this. I would rather see myself as lone Aussie than Chinese tourist, as in the mid 20th century, few Chinese could get close to the ordinary folks and fared as equals. From city to country, youth to elderly, Rockhampton, Queensland, Melbourne, Victoria to Launceston, Tasmania, the encounters and events are thought-provoking and life-enriching. So enjoy it!

1. The Depressed Years before the Exodus

It all started as early as my college days, when some of my peers had won scholarship into schools of higher learning in the United States, Canada and Australia since the third year. Going abroad to study has been regarded a pride or prestige in China. Also added to this, my family especially my mother, who had been for most of her life burdened with leg-disability and heart disease, gave up all their hard-earned savings in this support, as she put it, "to get out of a well to see the field beyond like a frog."

To come out of China then in the early 90's is not as easy as it is now, if one has enough money. First, a college graduate has to finish his "service period" of several years with his employer of mainly state-owned enterprise, unless you are a relative of overseas resident, and in which case liable for a large payout in compensation for the state education received. It is understandable for the above measures at that time, but there is the sore, as the relevant authorities did not do the job properly. From complicated procedures relating to passport acquisition, the proof of your overseas association, fair office gave way to favouritism and non-cooperation due to jealousy. It really took me two more years in waiting before getting through with the backing of somebody in the government agency and the payola was a mere string bag of fruits delivered to the home. No wonder the saying goes to this day: It is the person that you know counts.

To study overseas, I had left an influential state company assigned to after graduation, where I felt undervalued, a common phenomenon then. My first intended destination was United States and Canada, tried out since college time. It is a waste of money and time in correspondence with a dozen institutes, and passing linguistic tests, only to sell yourself for their support if not mercy, still to no avail. Afterwards, Germany and Japan were in mind, but without success, for which reason I picked up some German and Japanese. It almost seemed to me that the self-worth and dignity could only be proved by the flight, for the sake of study or not. It was simply too much frustration both from the home authority and overseas institutes.

After all, my application to study in Australia was approved. By that time in 1994, my beloved mother had passed away, without sharing the joy with me. On the day of departure, I carried a whole lot of baggage, including instant noodles for saving on food, like home removal. I felt really fortunate and excited for the trip ahead, but something ineffable caught me in tears when my friend and father waved me goodbye at Beijing Capital Airport. So far, so good.

2. On my Way to this Youthful Country

I made a stopover en route in Singapore, when night fell and the humid tropic air was around. Next morning, I came across a young Chinese lady in the hotel, who happened to be on the same flight to Australia. Like an elder sister, possibly having caught sight of my uneasiness on departure, she revealed to me that she is an Australian resident and suggested kindly that I should not squander the money on electronic device in Singapore. Also, she offered going to Sydney with her, which I declined hastily, partly because this is not my pre-planned destination, mostly because the profound distrust that had long been honed living in a politically and interpersonally complex society like China, where true thoughts have to be kept to oneself under prevailing party doctrine, and where, in order to maintain good neighbourhood, one hypocritically assumes a friendly gesture to the noisy spiteful family upstairs, and where, shoddy goods are common. Her words left me the impression that life ahead is not a light-hearted one.

I was overwhelmed by the urge to get a few pieces of electronics beyond my reach at home, which the shrewd Singaporean dealers saw readily. Both the Sharp organiser and Sony walkman were bargains with flaws bought at certain second-class market hall, and the third Braun Shaver sought at the airport was found to be a rip-off. The Chinese lady said it after all.

The journey went on, and again at the Changi Airport, while waiting for the flight, a squad of armed patrol came by in compelling dark uniforms, their automatic rifles recklessly pointing at the crowd, as if hunting down Mafia at the first shot. For one moment, I had the misgiving that they came for me and turned to avoid eye contact. Slowly, they moved away in another direction, and the rest of the scattered passengers did not seem the least disturbed.

Singapore is very clean, but everything typical of a commercial place under tight control.

3. At Brisbane

It was twilight when the plane hovered above Brisbane, and a middle-aged couple sitting next to me apparently excited about returning home broke the silence and announced to me that the lights shimmering through the porthole was Brisbane. I guess their pronunciation should be [briz'bein]. I had been plane-sick and my hearing dropped, since this was my first long journey by air. Shortly before landing, strikingly, a crewmember started with routine spray. The man walked along the aisle extending both arms flat holding on each hand an aerosol over the heads of his subjects, which was quite a an upsetting show to me, if not disgrace.

From my initial contact with the "blue eyes", they keep some distance but still good company with each other. They always want to be big on themselves and still respectful for others in a relation. Contrary to this, the Chinese are closely related in an easy manner short of sincerity and regard. Humbleness and low profile has been characteristic of Chinese culture, where a western tourist may find it confusing seeing so many friendly faces and have-not. By and large, the Chinese society works on sympathy while the West embraces competition. Another difference observed is the room of self-determination, whereas in a liberal country one has a perplexing array of choices at sole discretion, career, marriage, churches, flights, parties, music, dressing, that a traditional and orthodox milieu burdened with external concerns and influences lacks.

Later, at the baggage collection it turned out that my sleeping bag and wool blanket had been missing. I made a report on this and checked out last. I was honest with customs that seemed a little impatient while inspecting packages of instant noodles previously declared and must be declared due to stringent quarantine.

Into Brisbane from Airport

Brisbane at a Glimpse

It is just a whole new world to me that every step forward takes effort. Lots of things on the way were strange, including the left traffic rule, that counters my past experiences and senses, the beeper for street crossing, that empowers pedestrians, normal and invalid alike, to take traffic control. I asked my way through, until finally hit a hostel in a backstreet, as the first directed youth residence had been fully occupied. This Italian family-run accommodation was poorly furnished, particularly the bunk bed looked unclean. The owner got very angry when they saw I tried to lay papers on the mattress. For certain reasons, the coin phone at the lodge charged exorbitantly for every call to the University in Rockhampton, Queensland that supposed to pick me up in Brisbane. Probably I was too nervous to relate myself on the phone and still worse the other end showed little understanding, then I decided to arrange my own trip to Rockhampton.

Not everything in the beginning was bad, when I did a leisure walk aimlessly along mangrove-lined riverbank. Coming from a crowded city like Beijing, I was ravished by the scene and personal space. I managed to make myself a photo with the help of bypassing jogger. Most remarkable of all, when I lied down on the grass in the City Botanic Gardens and looked up in the lofty skies, was the sight of a senior male face formed by the clouds. The image stayed only momentarily before I could make a snap shot. Could it be the almighty God? I am religious but not Christian by the way.

In front of Mangroved Brisbane River

Next morning at the Transit Centre, I came across an elderly New Zealand couple, with whom I left the cumbersome luggage for a while before heading to the toilet. They were very nice people and according to them I could be a New Zealand resident, if so desired. This was too good to be true for me then, but now with hindsight, it is all possibly true.

The Greyhound bus ride was fabulously scenic and generally pleasurable. The bus driver helped passengers with their luggage and from time to time called the stop with impressive Aussie accent, such as "Gympie", "Maryborough", which is still ringing in my ears after so many years. Notably, many places had their aboriginal names, built with vowels in it such as "oo" and "a". Along with unspoiled natural beauty, the ranches are found to be enclosed by stake and wire that marked the private estate, something indicative of a material world.

4. At home in Rockhampton

As beef capital of Australia, Rockhampton was surrounded by cattle farms and butchers. Along the way up north, cattle herds were seen grazing on the savannah.

By the Bruce Hwy

The bus drove me a little further north out of Rockhampton, Queensland, and dropped me off near the University of Central Queensland later renamed Central Queensland University. It was one autumn night in April, the surroundings on the Bruce Highway is completely dark. A man coming out of the campus was kind enough to offer me a lift to a motel nearby, knowing that I had just arrived and there was nobody to assist me. It cost me dozens of Aussie dollars overnight, but facilities were satisfactory except the dead cockroach found beneath the linen. No wonder the location is only slightly north of Tropic of Capricorn.

Next day, after finished with enrolment, a dark skinned lady by the name Lavinia from administration drove me and my luggage around in search of accommodation. On the way full of sunlit green, a magpie happened to hit the windscreen, possibly dead, for which Lavinia looked quite upset. Later, she went as fas as checking with a few Thai female students to take me in, who responded negatively but with pleasant smile. My guess is that Thai truly represents the extant Oriental courtesy, and in their language “hello” pronounced as “Savadi”. Finally, I settled down in a two-story house, full of sickly curry smell, occupied by one Singaporean, one Indian by the name Abdul Ajamal and two Nepalese.

My First Residence in Rockie

Shortly after arrival in Australia, due to poor adjustment, I suffered from bad diarrhoea, and rushed to hospital accompanied by the Singaporean. I was dehydrated and faint, when Lavinia came to my bedside. To me, she was almost angel in a place everyone is supposed to look after him/herself. Before long, I was well again, but my sense of direction took longer to recover, due to hemispherical difference.

I remembered each of us in the English class received a gift bag from the student union, in which, besides other items of stationery, were a pack of condom and a Cadbury chocolate bar. Unlike in China, where contraceptives were given gratis under the policy of family planning by most city pharmacies unawares, condom is almost a culture in Australia, starting from toilet dispensers and ending up on the public lawn and even railing spike at train station.

The course "English for Tertiary Study" was found in a way redundant for my English skill, especially considering the cost of several thousand Aussie dollars, for a period of three month, as full fee overseas student. The class is really multinational, mainly rich Japanese, Taiwanese, Singaporean, Malaysian, Thai, Hongkongnese, Filipino and Chinese. Peter Liu also came from Beijing half a year earlier than I, a graduate of Peking University. Every one came to this new culture with their national identity. Once in class, we tried to boast about the size of the library at Peking University. The Japanese seemed the most self-centred, speaking "Englishi" unhurriedly with strong Japanese accent. The Taiwanese looked most relaxed and cheerful. The Hongkongnese kept making sound from their electronic dictionary. There was a female teacher Pam with two little daughters, who has unusually charming and caring voice, which really touches on the soul. Another senior teacher sister Margaret wearing a big cross was rather hard on me, perhaps a racist.

I arrived at the Uni at a time when University of Central Queensland was renamed to Central Queensland University, a change that reflects the influence of Americanism. The launch in the auditorium took the form of videoconference, where speakers local and remote took turns to appear on the big screen above the podium. Interestingly, a native parrot borne on the Uni emblem was also present at the podium, who stole the show by echoing the words willingly and loud. Other unusual experience was the outdoor class, where the herd of us was led out to the lawn grazing the knowledge. Even with English learning, lots of work was done in the library, searching for thesis material, and reading, different from my college study in China, where most of the homework was textbook based and library mainly served as a place for extracurricular reading. Also notable was the emphasis on workgroup and presentation in class, as we were often encouraged to communicate not only with the teacher, but peers as well.

There were quite a few Chinese at the Uni. I came to know Roger and Allen when I made a second move. They were assistant teachers of computing. Allen's wife Irene travelled between China and Australia to solicit prospective students. Roger unmarried likes classic music and badminton, something we have in common. One evening he drove me down town in his worn-out car to a nightclub by the name "Flamingo", at his insistence that this was the trip's worth. At the entrance, two big guys were keeping the door and there was discount for people from the Uni. I was stopped initially for inadequate ID, before a female staff from the administration who happened to be on the occasion helped out. Everyone got a stamp on the inside of wrist with the ambiguous word: "Sold". The scene was shockingly nude and the music was deafening, where Roger seemed much amused. Most Chinese students to my knowledge face the dilemma of hard struggle overseas and unwillingness to see the pities of homeland.

Cars, rakish or rubbish, have been mainstay of communication in Australia, whereas bicycles are stacked on the back of cars for leisure or sport. In the relation between pedestrian and vehicle, people on foot usually have the right of way than the people on wheels. Traffic lights are by request at some crossings and drivers on campus would stop and signal me to go first.

While living with Roger and Allen, every morning I woke up in the twitters of multitude of rosellas in the backyard. The birds do not fear people to the extent one can shoot close up pictures with 28mm lens. Roger's encounter with a magpie is most unfortunate, which left him a scar on the forehead. Magpies the size of a crow can be very aggressive at times youngsters are to be protected. According to him, while cycling, a magpie swooped down on him from nowhere, in evasion he fell off his bike and got injured. Another spectacle rather sad was the crushed "sugarcane toads" on streets, as they are so numerous and perhaps this is one way to regulate their population. Mosquito or locally called "mossies" were rampant when it went dark. Some of my class once spotted a kind of deadly spider just on the ceiling outside classroom, the size of mung bean seed, named "Red Back" for its scarlet body colour. Among other things, the tropic sun is considered hazardous, responsible for sunburn and skin cancer, for which warning posters were all over the campus.

Rosellas in Close-up Picture

In this smart world, it is rare to know somebody like Peter, who is a single father of three youngsters. We came to each other's bloody company after he sold me a working bicycle for a reasonable 20 dollars. He studies psychology in the Uni, for healing the family trauma. He was prematurely bald in his early forties and a neighbour pastor Frank came sometimes for a visit. I moved to his spacious house and shared life with his family for over a month. The rent was 70 dollars a week, for which he moved his youngest son to sleep with his brother in a bunk bed. Peter is quite mechanically minded and often seen working with cranky motorbikes, same are the boys. The youngest son had a collection of WWII model planes hanging in the room. I often helped the cooking in Chinese, unthinkably great dishes to myself, let alone to the family. For breakfast, the cheese and tomato sandwich also did me good. Sarah, the daughter of Peter, was a very lovely teenager. Looking afar from Peter's home, the roads and houses were under construction, showing the fast pace of development in Rockie. Further out were marshes and bushes. One day, Peter took his family and me for an outing in Keppel Sands. On the way, from time to time, kangaroos were hopping across the road, for which reason, most cars are fitted on the front with a metal rack. There were few people on the wide-open beaches and we poked the crabs in the rock fissure for fun. Peter told me of a slender looking plant by the name "Black Boy". On another occasion, we went to the Rockhampton Airport to see the military jets there. There was a big crowd very close to the F/A-18 Hornet, who kept raising questions about the plane to an officer. Inside the passenger hall, I spotted the washrooms thoughtfully reserved for the disabled and infant, which was very common in supermarkets, trains, public libraries through out Australia.

Peter's Family and Jack (dog) at Keppel Sands

At Rockhampton Airport (Foregroud: Disembarkation from Qantas Flight; Distance: F/A-18 Taking Off)

F/A-18 Hornet at Rockhampton Airport, on a Visit with Peter's Family

Washrooms for the Disabled and Infant

North Rockhampton Post Center Embraced in Rhododendron

Shopping in supermarkets is something new to me. Beijing in 1994 saw no such retail mega stores in the city. In the northern suburbs of Rockhampton lies the shopping complex, which houses, under one roof, major retail chains like Woolworth, Franklin, Target, the Big W, K Mart, as well as other boutiques, cafes. One notable way of sale was lay by, where a deposit was made for an item fully paid for later. Another is the new for old trade in.

Time left alone was not much, during which I went to the church mainly as a way to associate with people, if not for faith. There are different churches in the locality, not far from each other, but all built in a modern style, one of which is called "The Cathedral of Praise". Far away from home, it was so surprising just to identify a Chinese flag among others outside the church in this remote town. During the service, apart from traditional prayers and singing, some of attendants would gather at the front to undergo a healing process by the priest. In the forceful utterance of "Touch", one by one people lied down on their back in trance. Nowadays, whenever the Chinese government condemns something as a cult, this experience comes up in mind. There were people out on the street in the mall of Rockie talking bypassers into their belief. One evening, I joined a group to go bowling together. I could still remember the comment of Pastor Cole on the way home: "You are like a book everyone can read." In another gathering for the local youth group at Cathedral of Praise, where we sang the hymns together and danced to the tunes by electronic keyboard, these Aussie youngsters looked both exhilarating and faithful. Later, a staff from Uni Language Centre told me somebody had wanted to see me, with a mysterious look on her face. A blonde peer showed up after class, who happened to spot me during the church gathering. I was so bewildered on the scene and hastily referred her to Peter Liu next to me, in a regrettable but altruistic move. At other gatherings for international students, where snack were served afterward to everyone's delight, I came to know James, a South Korean at pilot school.  He was a real person and warm, trying to give me a plane ride but without permission. We used to do a cycle tour on a nearby mountain overlooking the Rockie area. I was out of strength half way up, having to walk the bike between breaks, while he was always ahead waiting for me.  On the way home down hill, my bike speeded too fast for the worn-out brake, and I was tumbling down, a few meters short of an incoming car. I managed myself up, and saw people from the car came over: “Are you OK?” Thanks to the helmet, which had a crack in it, I found myself in bruises all over the body, but nothing serious.

With James Halfway up the Climb

One night, Peter’s youngest son was said to have fallen off the bunk bed and sent to hospital. Out of guilt, again I moved out to a house in Elphinstone Street. The night before, I offered a snack of Coke, fish fillet, and French fries to the disgruntled family. The young hostess Diane had a well-maintained house, attributable to her German background. She was working extremely hard in a local aluminium plant every day to repay the loan. There was another Aussie girl sharing the house by the name Sam, who worked in a pharmacy. I had my little room, in which an Australian flag patterned "doona" or quilt was most distinctive and with a purpose.

Being healthy and live, the young ladies were too good for me and it turned out that our personal relations were heading nowhere. Once, much to my surprise, Sam invited a bevy of chicks home to check out this “handsome Chinese from Uni”, where amidst the bubbly blondes, I had the best envious look ever received. Later one evening, in a girly plot, I followed both ladies to a nearby video shop, where they rented an adult movie on tape and asked me to stay with them for the “Good” night show in Diane’s bedroom. I declined as this was too much to me at the time. That is not all, after going out with Sam on a bright sunny day in a downtown garden, feeling unsure of into a relation with her, Sam was bold enough to present herself in nude before me while taking a bath, only to be interrupted by the door knock from Diane’s mother. Desire and cultural shock aside, I am always frustrated and incompetent, when it comes to crude affairs, to this day.

Diane is a sociable type, but not her mother, Mrs. Pearson, who seemed to me very polite and quiet, living alone in an adjacent quarter much smaller in size. The neighbouring kids were awfully easy and pleasant, who readily made you a mate. The moments with these kids are truly wonderful because it is simple and pure. On a trip with Diane and her mother to Yeppoon, I was able to feel and touch the cute Koala as well as see the Emus. Once in contact with Koala, one can pick up a special odour that stays on the clothes for long. Amid palm trees, stood luxury hotel and spa at Yeppoon, which was a bit costly even for ordinary Aussies. Along the way, the landscape varied from sun-baked eucalyptus groves to the majestic sea waving in cool gust. On the palatable side of things, Diane purposely bought a wok for me to do Chinese cooking, in return, she prepared the corned beef, which tasted just as good.

Neighbourhood Kids and I in Elphinstone Street, N. Rockhampton (Photo Edited for privacy)

Eucalyptus Lined Road to Yepoon with Diane

Cuddly Koala and I at Yepoon (Face distorted)

Emus at the Zoo

Shore at Yepoon

Soaring above the Sea

Before The Singing Ship

During vacation, every student was out looking for work, scanty in and around Rockie, unless one was a qualified tradesman. I had contacted the student union previously, which placed me on a temporary demolition job at CIG site, an Australian gas supplier. The work was quite tough on the body, which involved the removal of planks and boards from the structures high above the ground. For two days, I was flat out at last. The findings of workmates that the remainder boards were asbestos saved us all, which was excluded in the contract. The reward was a fortune too in the hundreds, never before and again earned.

Occasionally, homesickness got me, when there was not much to do or nowhere to confide. I remembered at nights I was out alone in the streets singing to myself the familiar “Olive Tree” that came to mind: “Don’t ask where I am from, as far away is my hometown. …”

Australian aborigines normally look stout, dark skinned, flat nosed and crinkly on the bridge, sparkling and fierce eyed. Unlike American Indians that resemble Asians in a way, they bear the semblance of Africans. At Rockhampton town, they were seen akin to each other away from the whites. One sunny afternoon, James and I sat at outdoor café table, smoking and looking about the empty mall, as if reserved for us, an aborigines trustfully stopped by for a few dollars. I hesitated on consideration that I was virtually the poorest of all before these dole people, while James honoured his request. Later in Melbourne, I was informed vaguely that these aborigines live only some thirty years on average, due to excessive alcohol and mental depression and isolation in the society. This case again proves the saying that money is not everything.

The costly English study finally came to an end, I felt that my money would not sustain this kind of luxurious life any more, before ideally moving on to proposed study of shipping business in Tasmania, or finding some payed work in the south. At the time, actually most of the international students who had not enrolled in a course thought alike, as Peter Liu had planned to go to Brisbane for work. Sunny, exuberant, youthful, exotic as Rockie is, it is a paradise for tourists, rich settlers and developers, but not for the humble overseas students like me. More often than not, I make people feel sorry for me and I constantly wonder what I am supposed to be, a welcome person or the true self? Sam echoed my feeling that it is very difficult to stay the same person in and out. To show my respect, I bought Mrs. Pearson a bouquet of dried flowers and left it at her doorstep, before the sad goodbye. On the day of departure, Diane's house was quiet, and probably they were out at work as usual.

5. The Sojourn in Melbourne

It was again the long distance bus ride, but not as exciting as the first one. I was sitting at the rear of the bus close to a toilet, which from time to time gave off the unpleasant smell. The conversation with a next seat handsome Chinese helped divert the attention a little, who happened to be a graduate of CQU in Rockie, holding multiple business positions, including chief executive of the Amway chain in Hong Kong.

At Royal Park, Melbourne

On arrival in Melbourne, it was a gloomy day and I do not think I was least noticed amid the multinational city crowds. I caught the tram to a youth hostel in North Melbourne near the Royal Park, where lots of backpackers were around both from the East and West, but few from Mainland China, due to low income and visa restriction. Anyway, people from different cultures shared the dormitory-like rooms of 6 to 8 beds. In the public kitchen, foods were kept separate, still sometimes found short. Coin-operated washing machines were placed in the laundry that puzzled me at first. The Japanese on working holiday visa were the biggest group there, speaking barely understandable English, normally stayed together in the lounge away from others, while the whites, mainly Europeans got close together. One day, I found that a white man was asking his Japanese counterpart the local terms for sexual organs and interestingly he got the answers without much embarrassment. I got to know Kinjo Yasuo in my room, who offered me a lift in his second-hand car to the sea terminal off to Tasmania.

Winter in Melbourne is cool and wet, alternating between sunny and rainy hours within a day. I did quite some walk in the city, including trip to St. Paul Cathedral and China Town, with an Asian American lady, who introduced me the black finger like liquorice and Greek gyro. For vegetables, once or twice, I made my way to Queen Victoria Market a short distance from the hostel. Amid downtown luxurious shopping centres, this open shed market of 1000 stalls boasts its history and unbeatable price. The friendly stallholders and the abundance of produce gave me a sense of home feeling in certain terminal market in Beijing. Other lonesome visits covered Royal Park, the Necropolis, Carlton Garden, Parliament House, the Shrine and the Botanical Garden. Notably, at the entrance of the botanical garden, there was no mandatory charge, but a collection box for a plan payable. At the snack hut by the lake, as in anywhere else in town, flocks of seagull scrambled audaciously for the bits of leftovers.

Royal Botanical Garden

Melbourne Vista from Carlton Garden

The Necropolis

Parliament House and Tram

Before the Shrine

Altar at St. Paul Cathedral

Rivival Centre in Flinders Street

The short stay in Melbourne was a light-hearted one, free from all sorts of concerns hunting about for jobs or accommodations that haunted me later. Neither was there much to tell for the same reason, just like a tourist. I had previously arranged with Australian Maritime College in Launceston, Tasmania, about my graduate study in Shipping Business there, which at the time was still something proud of. On boarding the ferry "Spirit of Tasmania", I came to know a wharfie Bob, who enthusiastically helped with my luggage.

With Kinjo Yasuo before boarding "Spirit of Tasmania"

6. Winter Blue in Tassie

Darkness fell when the ferry set sail. On the bridge, most people posed for a picture against the backdrop of the illuminated Melbourne skyline, when I offered to frame a Spanish elderly couple, whose camera was not good enough for the lighting condition. Regrettably, I broke my promise of mailing them the photo later, due to the loss of their address in my organiser. During the voyage, I wandered about the hotel-like ship to find such amenities as game room, exhibition room and cinema. As shipping major, I remember well a section in the exhibition dealing with side stabilisers amid the ship that adjusts automatically to offset the roll. Nonetheless, about half way down the voyage, the ship wobbled along in the choppy Bass Strait. I leaned forward a little over the rail and had my glimpse of the ghastly waves seething and tumbling below under the force of nature. My cabin happened to be down the steerage shared with a dozen of other worker-like people, something indicative of social stratus. In the much-underutilized public washing room, I grabbed three bars of mini soap. Next morning, I woke up to the announcement of arrival at Devonport, Tasmania.

It is simply a fabulous bus journey from Devonport to Launceston, where the Uni lies close to the headwaters of Tamar River. The hazy hills, freshly coloured forest, grassland were all like a fairy tale, played out before your eyes. Later I had a rare encounter with a middle-aged Chinese traveller in this remote corner of the earth, who showed me the way on the map to a local youth hostel. The streets in town was quiet and hilly, with my cumbersome luggage, I looked miserable in the drizzle. A paper walker lent me a hand on the way.

Fabulous Tasmania

Real life was not as exciting as the travel. The hostel occupied a run-down museum on a hill, which was monstrous for the several odd homeless people in the winter gloom. It seemed things were only half done, all I got was a whole empty room of bunk beds, cold shower and despairing silence. The enrolment day was heavily misty and a bizarre mistake was found that the course had been cancelled at the last minute without my knowledge, due to the shortage of students. I was then put on distance learning, a change that requires more input on the student's part that I felt hard to adjust. I had the key to the computer room, only to work through the help files, and see others coming in and out with teacher's guidance. My observation of the students was that the bigger ones were not very helpful at AMC, who fancied comment on girls, while the smaller ones looked nothing but sick and heavy-hearted. I was probably the first Chinese to study Shipping Business postgraduate in this apathetic "hospital".

The gay right was the issue on campus at the time and posters summoned meetings in its defence statewide. My guess is that Tasmania is one of the states that sanctions homosex.

It was also difficult to establish a foothold. I ended up in a shared house with some young Asians, two Singaporean sisters, one Malaysian girl and a Singaporean man. The Malay had finished her study and ready to return home, who left me a couple of belongings at minimum expense. The two sisters were fussy and critical on me and before long we got into quarrel over a cracking glass bowl that forced me to leave. At the same time, I worked part time for a Hongkongnese restaurant, by no means tidy. Bending over the kitchen sink, I was told to spare hot water and the detergent for the greasy dishes that already strained my body to the limit. Within two weeks, I did long walks around town in search of job without any success, and my pocket money after paying the tuition and rent drained fast. To make things worse, I simply could not get through on the damned public phone back to Beijing for relief during that critical period. Having no way out, I finally gave up and the Tassie apple turned sour, with profound regret and grief. During the last few days in Tassie, I stayed in a costly cell-like cabin on campus, for which the warden attempted to double charge me in a mail to me much later.

I spent a day in the Cataract Gorge, that channels water into Tamar River, chasing wallabies on the hillside. That was perhaps my best day in Tassie. I was virtually disheartened by the place and the weather and soon making my way back to Melbourne.

7. Life Has Just Started

I came across a Russian, half-drunk, on the bus from Launceston to Devonport. We were first sitting at the very front next to the driver, then moved to the back at his request, who seemed used to the humdrum than our rave. Knowing that I have no residence in Melbourne, the Russian suggested I stay with him in a bungalow for refugees in Springvale. The little room smells of alcohol and the carpet stained. He was quite a warm-hearted man, and cursing “Bullshit” all the time. The electricity was cut, due to default, but he managed to force the meter box open and I fixed the fuse at the back of the house. In a move to introduce me to the young ladies, I followed him to a house in the neighbourhood, where I was scared by the scene of a senior, with a pallid face covered in scarlet hood, sitting at the far end of the front yard. Believing this is not my life, the next morning, I decided to get away and left about 20 dollars on the table in thanks for the accommodation.

At a bank in downtown Melbourne, while waiting at the counter to cash my refund check from AMC, I noticed a soprano busker outside, accompanied by her tape recorder, which moved me to tears, as city folks bustled around indifferently. This was perhaps the weighty moment that the harshness of life spoke for itself.

To be or not to be. That is the question. I was in doubt about my entrant legitimacy, as I had dropped out of the study, though I had been granted a two-year student visa. At the Melbourne immigration office, people were in long queues awaiting their disparate sentences and time went painfully slow. It was an amiable young lady, who received me over the counter and suggested that I apply for residency immediately, then handing me a bulky envelope of forms. However, at a second inquiry on the same occasion just for confirmation, I was snubbed by an Indian looking official, who urged me to continue study or leave the country. Imaging the daunting task of filing the application and unconvinced of a successful case, I balked and decided to leave the matter behind.

Other encounters with government offices included the ATO(Australian Tax Office) and CES(Commonwealth Employment Service). For work eligibility and tax settlement, one has to register with the Tax department and secure a tax file number. At the office in downtown Melbourne, the staffs were receiving visitors stand-up, all in a polite manner. The tax is pre-collected from the pay by the employer on a progressive basis, and in June every year, review is done for every taxpayer to get the “returns” from tax deduction and exemption. In this connection, a tax adviser, on behalf of his client, may involve to get round the rules and secure more returns. CES is the social security bureau that services the jobless through consultation, training, reference and financial relief namely the dole. On several occasions, I visited CES in various locations in search of work, though not at all successful, they were there to help, one on one. I remembered my very first visit to CES in Queensland, as I was much scared by the offer to teach English to local aborigines. Australia ranks high in the developed countries for the dole payout which amounts to hundreds per week per head. The welfare system is somewhat tapped as in other countries, as unwillingness and inability to work can not be clearly ascertained.

I returned to the youth hostel in North Melbourne, and Kinjo Yasuo was still there. He told me that he was a blue collar in Japan and on working holiday in Australia. Speaking limited English and a stocky stature, he was sympathetic and big inside. With his reference, I was able to work with him part time, as dishwashers, in a downtown Japanese restaurant, near the Southern end of Russell St. The light was dim barely enough to see the awful lot and routines, the air was stale and just enough for breathing. Roku Hara Sang (Mr. Six Pineapples, as was interpreted to me with stilted sense of humour) was the foreman, who often took a nap, between the hours, in the dark corner of a loft, crowded with grocery and utensils. Among the kitchen team, waiting to be pleased, were Hiro Kun, Nishi Mura Sang (literally, Mr. West Village), Kazi Kun. Two other Chinese were there before me, who were probably illegal, as we tried to avoid personal questions, and one of them driving to work repeatedly hinted me that it was OK to be illegal.

The Japanese are not typically one unity. From my observation at the restaurant, there are tough ones as well as easy ones. Relation did get tense when Nishi took an inimical stance against his fellow unruly Hiro, knife in hand, over kitchen affairs, while others like Kazi Kun simply follow the orders away from trouble. On several occasions later in Melbourne, locals mistook me for Japanese. The reason is probably that Japan historically is the herald Asian country to reach out to the West since Meiji Dynasty in the late 19th Century, while China has largely been resisting liberal western influence and that, in modern times among Asian countries, Japan stands out in the world affairs. Also in the eyes of westerners, Asians look very much alike, although we do differ slightly in appearance.

The Japanese language is also evident in the western connection, as it employs both the pictorial kanji, which is basically traditional Chinese characters, as well as spelling hiragana and katakana. Hiragana combine various parts of cursive hand Chinese characters to form self-meaningful Japanese words, while katakana uses typographic parts of Chinese characters to represent alphabetic letters and corresponding pronunciations, and thus western words. Interestingly, Japanese can not borrow everything western into their language. In part, kanji serves as necessary separators for words, making the sentence easy to read; in part, Japanese lacks such phonetic elements as “r”, “sh”, “v” and “t”. So, a “rope” is usually pronounced as “lopu” for the Japanese, “Shanghai” turned to “Shianghai”, “video” to “bideo” and “boat” to “boado”.