Latest news with #TheStoryOfANewName

Irish Examiner

For those who stick it out, Australia can be a home and make you feel lucky

Two weeks back, I took myself on a pre-date date to my favourite bar in Melbourne, with nothing but the book I'm reading. I wouldn't dream of doing this in my hometown of Clonakilty. I'd be mortified at the thought of someone I know seeing me and thinking I'm unpopular, or an alcoholic or an unpopular alcoholic. There's a never ending eclectic list of activities I couldn't fathom doing in case one of the 5,000-ish people in my town 'see me'; like going for a run on a country road, doing an open mic night, going to SuperValu without my mother for back-up. Friends and I agree that it's very embarrassing to simply exist in a small Irish town and passionately tried to explain this to our Sydney-born friend around a table one night. She couldn't understand it. We had to show her 'the' tweet. [For those who have never seen 'the' tweet - by a user called Janky_Jane, it reads '"Props to anyone who tries to be fashionable in Ireland I wore a red beret once in Waterford and someone called me super mario"] Props to anyone who tries to be fashionable in ireland i wore a red beret once in waterford and someone called me super mario — Jane (@janky_jane) August 15, 2021 Sitting in the Melbourne bar alone, having released my inhibitions reading The Story Of A New Name — which feels apt given the central topic of this article — I hear the sweet lilt of a Donegal accent. I train my ears as two men gulp their pints. They're on a man friend date. I can tell by the body language. Someone has definitely set them up and they'll likely need to murder 12 additional pints to get through the excruciation of building a home-away-from-home community as an adult. I know they're new to each-other by the way they're speaking. The three questions; 1. When did you move over yourself? 2. Why did you move then? 3. Do you love it, do you think you'll stay? I've heard the same vital ingredients rattled off to these questions every time, outside nightclub toilets, at picnics, in smoking rooms, around kitchen tables; 'yeah, on the working holiday', 'sure you can't beat the good weather', 'the pay is way better isn't it', 'the work/life balance is incredible', 'the rental situation in Dublin is just shocking isn't it.' Melbourne. Some settlers have been dreaming of moving to Australia since they were 10. Photo: Hannah Kingston It always, always, comes back to and amounts to the lifestyle. The living is easy in the lucky country. It's a country that instigates expansion. When I moved here five years ago, I was only going to stay for six months. I was hyper-fixated on getting a mortgage with my boyfriend. Now I'm a lesbian with no savings. I'm the happiest I've ever been. I smile warmly at the lads as I walk out of the bar, trying to say 'I'm Irish too' with my eyes. Outside it's balmy and in a flash I am transported to Fade Street, standing outside Hogans. The only accents I hear among the plumes of the crackling vapes are Irish. For a brief second my body and brain run away, it feels exactly like those first six months in Dublin. Glamorous, progressive, exotic. I need to shake my head out of the daydream. A first. A Melbourne bar that is not sporting Irish flags and hurleys accommodating more Irish than Australians. For a second, the remnants of that teenage feeling, swiftly looking around the bar to see if there's anyone I know. Hoping that no one spotted me and thinks I'm an unpopular alcoholic. A pro-Palestine protest in Melbourne. Photo: Hannah Kingston Tá eagla orm that I'll get bullied online for being narcissistic enough to think that my emigration experience is a universal one, so I spoke to 25 Irish folk to pick out some common themes which correspond to over 100,000 people born on the Emerald Isle now residing in the Land Down Under. Some settlers have been dreaming of moving to Australia since they were 10. They say post-homework Home and Away might have had something to do with it. Others have deep family roots, speaking of great aunts who were put on a ship in the 1930s. Some flew the nest for a partner. Lots spoke of better job opportunities, enhanced lifestyles. Many simply feared missing out. All were and are curious about the world around them. There are undeniable perks; no offence to the wonderful Australians I know who speak of the housing crisis but the statement itself will elicit an eye roll from most of us Irish. I currently live in a two-bedroom apartment, a 20-minute walk from the nice side of the CBD with a monthly rent of €1,085. I used to pay €1,000 for a bedroom in a six-bed house in Dublin. I lived with five carnivorous men in a hostel-style environment. The house constantly smelled of frying meat. Before that I lived in an attic that the wifi couldn't reach, you could only stand up straight in the doorway (I'm 5'4). Melbourne. I spoke to 25 Irish folk to pick out some common themes which correspond to over 100,000 people born on the Emerald Isle now residing in the Land Down Under. Photo: Hannah Kingston I woke up once with a neck like a tree trunk when a wasp nest broke free from the attic's insulation and did their worst before dying all over my room. I was sweeping little wasp corpses for weeks. Between wasp and steak house, I lived in a 'house' with damp, blackened mouldy wallpaper. I don't know what was worse, the wallpaper or my housemate who used to cover a margarita pizza in mayonnaise and smoked salmon and would then microwave it. Microwave it. You can't put a price on positive mental health and I will never be able to rid myself of that visual, that smell. To save for the big move to Australia I needed to make my rent cheaper again so I moved into a room that contained a single bed only; when I opened the door, it hit the single bed. I genuinely think it used to be a hot press. To create a disposable income in Dublin, you need to make yourself as small as possible, forfeit things on Maslow's hierarchy of needs. I will never speak ill of my time living in the capital because it was the first time I didn't feel embarrassed to exist as per my late teenage years. That being said, interning at a newspaper, waitressing at night to pay rent and writing a thesis between shifts in the hope of getting a cool media job almost broke me into three pieces. Hannah Kingston: 'I'm not surprised there are enough Irish in Australia to fill Limerick city.' The situation of the boring admin things like having a stable place to live, getting paid enough money to be able to purchase enough healthy food for the week does matter. When you're working all the hours in the world and you still have to think about the financial consequences of going to the cinema on a Wednesday, it will age you beyond your years. I'm not surprised there are enough Irish in Australia to fill Limerick city. Reporting from the ground you can see it and hear how joyful it is to be a 26-hour flight away and see Aussies jumping up and down at Kneecap, swaying to Fontaines DC and screaming 'I love you Ciara' at CMAT. For those who stick it out to see what happens, it can be a home, make you feel lucky.