POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 9

One of the greatest things about being an internationally roaming Australian is that people rarely have anything bad to say about my home country, nor it's people.

And why should they? The great southland has many, MANY things to brag about.

We're the home of perfectly beautiful beaches. Even on the shores of cities like Sydney, we have great beaches, some renowned internationally. Manly and Bondi, for example, have reality television shows about their heroic surf lifesavers, who literally pluck thousands of drowning tourists from the surf (waves) each year.

I have been saved by one myself. When I was 5 or 6 years old I was with my parents at "Beach Mission", an evangelistic camp (think 70s/80s fashion, tents, muppets, tamborines, and you're on the right track), and decided that I'd take myself, albeit without parental permission, to have a relaxing dip in the ocean.

On my way down to the beach I saw swarms of people enjoying the tranquility of the river, rather than the thunder of the Pacific, and decided to change my course.

I do remember having a friend with me, but cannot even place their face, let alone who they actually were in relation to me.

The water was cold, I didn't care. I splished and splashed, having way more fun than Bible class could ever provide. I was also ecstatically enjoying the company of my new friends I'd never met before (clearly I believed in friendship evangelism, even from the get-go).

At the edge of the river the water was pooled, a space perfect for toddlers and small children to enjoy. But I wasn't a toddler and thought better of it. I pushed my way into deeper waters.

With a smile I began to tread carelessly towards the teens, who were thrashing about with their balls and flotation devices. My best friend, whomever I had brought with me, started to shriek, "I can't touch the bottom!"

They swam under the rapidly moving current, earthed their feet on the riverbed, and bounded out of the water towards the edge. After doing this several times they made it to the shore. "Chicken", I thought to myself. "What a Loser..."

"Moron",  I continued to contemplate in good Christian character, concentrating all my efforts on thinking up 5 or 6 year old "mean" adjectives. So into my negativity was I, that my own physical safety had unwittingly become surrendered to the elements. For as the story goes it turned out I too couldn't touch the bottom!

Being the wise chap I am, my first thought, in terms of creating a plan, was to strategically enter panic mode as I began "swimming" downstream.

The first stage of panic mode is to keep smiling, glancing at the sun all the while, and pretending you actually mean to swim furiously downstream, with feet seemingly disconnected from brain,  pirouetting Swan Lake style...

Stage two of panic mode is the whisper. "Help... help... help..." Brave smiles erode into forced smiles, with corners of mouths giving way to wiggling. Stomachs begin talking. "You're going to die," they say. "Golly-gosh NO!" My body exited the rushing stream into the rough Pacific Ocean.

I couldn't see anything, the water had changed flavour and now wreaked of Smith's saltiness. My eyes began exuding the very same ingredient. The roar of the ocean was too much for me. Like the Diggiest Dog, I began to yelp, "help", I yelped, "HELP, HELP, HELP, HELP!"

It was then that my Australian David Hasselhoff look-a-like hero, complete with budgie-smugglers (Aussie slang for "speedo", a snazzy/highly fashionable Australian invention, actually a bi-product of superhero costumes, utilising inch wide shimmering off-cut materials), entered the sea.

And just as I began to contemplate how my new home (NZ) would mutilate my handsome Aussie accent, making me say things like "fosh and chops" (fish and chips) and "sex" (six), I was rescued. My saver gently, though possibly not as picturesquely as Hasselhoff, dragged me by the neck towards the shore and allowed me to walk out of the ocean with some level of dignity (like a 5 or 6 year, "I meant to do that!").

However, he probably had himself a wee giggle on account of my swimming trunks being unknowingly around my ankles. Hence I began to drown again, but this time in knee deep water with my bare bottom greeting the skies.

Our cities are modern and hold their own. Sydney hosted the 2000 Olympics and the then President of the Olympic International Committee,  Juan Antonio Samaranch, said that the Sydney Olympics were the best ever held (I had to agree, on account of a performance by Vanessa Amorosi). In 2006 Melbourne hosted the Commonwealth Games - aren't we just fabulous?

Transportation around our cities includes busses, taxis, trains, subways, trams, monorails, ferries, rickshaws, zip-lines, hover-crafts and teletransportation. Oh yes, we're very forward thinking!

Our national airline carrier, Qantas - the Spirit of Australia, is the second oldest airline in the World (KLM - Royal Dutch Airlines is the oldest), and has consistently held the highest Skytrax rankings of first world national carriers (those of you who know me understand I just had to get that in there at some point - airlines are my OBSESSION!).

Aussies have a casual attitude. When I was in New York my exchange coordinator, Pat, had said that whilst working in a Perth university's international office, she had been surprised by all the morning/afternoon/pre-work/post-work/lunchtime/post lunchtime/pre-post lunchtime/and other times of celebratory events, involving food, drink, chats and loads of laughter, she'd attended. How can I put it? Aussies just know how to have a good time. We're mental. We're out there!

Aussies have high standards of living. We're very plush. In Canberra, the only type of material we're permitted to use in the construction of our houses is brick. Some say we have the brick veneerial disease. I don't know, what do you think? Are we're classy or wot?

Australia has a booming arts industry. Our exports include, but are not limited to, Keith Urban, Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett, Toni Collette, Kylie Minogue, Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Eric Bana & Barry Humphries.

In short, Aussies can go anywhere in the World and be greeted with a smile. Anywhere, that is, except where we've been militarily - and for a reference on that, just look up anywhere the British or Americans have been.

And so upon our arrival for university exchange, in January 2001, we were welcomed enthusiastically by our new Church in Brockport, New York. Our Church was amazing and we attended most Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. Everyone wanted a piece of us, and so we'd invite them all back to our place, after Church, on Saturday nights, for a party that ALWAYS went until at least midnight (that's something for US Christians!).

Initially, well for the first 6 months, everyone would ask us open-ended questions just to hear us speak. Then they'd reply with "you don't REALLY talk like that in Australia, do you?" Our response, "why gee-whiz cobba/love, course we do..."

Some of our favourite New York friends include Shane & Jen (POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 7), Rob & Tab, and Nick & Shazza.

On our return visit to Rochester this past summer (July/August 2012), we had the awesome privilege of getting together with our old friends for a scintillatingly sumptuous dinner at Nick & Sharon's house.

Now if you ever want to learn how to host a dinner party, doing it right, and leaving your guests absolutely frantically hanging for the next invitation, all you have to do is visit Nick & Shazza's house of a Friday evening.

First of all it's the initial greeting - eyes and arms open wide, with warmth and love like you'll never know.

Then it's the absolute annihilation of your senses in the lounge room of their house. There are tasteful decorations and plenty of them. Smells waft this way and that, from the kitchen to the candlelit sitting room, tempting you to try biting a part of the wall on account of mistaken identity - this just has to be the house Hansel & Gretel visited! You're munching stops when Shazza waltzes back into the room with a tray of fruity cocktails looking curiously at you on account of your plaster and wallpaper filled teeth.

Some original artist who is either tastefully back in vogue or so NOW that nobody else has ever heard of them (though you pretend to know who they are, hoping they won't ask you for the name of your favourite album) is filling the air around you, eloquently back-dropping the cheerful chortle, chortle, thirty-something, sophisticated conversation.

Rob, Tab, Nick, Shaz, Shane, Jen, Liz & Jed - the thirty-something club...

Secondly, the dinner table. It's not picnic at the park, it's not discount day at the diner, you're not in school debating who you should sit next to, you're in Heaven being seated by the Gods of creativity, Nick & Shaz.  

I couldn't dream up the center pieces Shazza throws together. She's like Mrs. Bucket (Bouquet) from Keeping Up Appearances. "Oh please" she'll say. "Sit wherever you please" and as you go to plonk your bot-bot down she'll almost scream at you "except there, that's where I'm sitting."

The dinner always promises memories. You can't help but enjoy yourself with the likes of this mob. We're all childless this evening, which makes us just that little bit more liberated and carefree. We've changed a lot in eleven and a half years. This is both painfully obvious and intriguing to me.

Topics of conversation range and I usually end up carelessly offending someone, but they're forgiving - we're friends after all. The dinner time frivolities cascade into the sitting area once again, where we continue to laugh and reminisce, or discuss topics which would, in some circles, be taboo.

Rob & Tab, we had always felt very kindred with. In our Brockport years, we'd talked passionately about heading to Latin America to work on the mission field. Costa Rica had come up as a topic of conversation frequently.

Lorenzy and I were blessed to be able to visit Rob & Tab last year in Costa Rica (they were attending language school on account of Rob's sabbatical), along with Shane & Jen.

A few years ago Liz and I had decided to attend language school in Costa Rica, as we were travelling to North America for Liz's brother's wedding. My boss found out about my plans and trickily offered me a promotion. I became my travel agency's trainer instead of heading to the mission field. It was a decision I'd come to regret. Whilst in Greece, on a ten year wedding anniversary celebration, I learnt that I had been fired from my agency. Our company had down-sized and my position in Canberra was being relocated to Sydney.

Heartbroken? Absolutely. I loved my job with the travel agency. Upon my return to Australia I was given a great position in a well-to-do retail outlet near Australia's Parliament House, but it just wasn't the same.

I spent a few years in the wilderness and ended up in my all-time favourite job with Australia's premier airline carrier, Qantas Airways - the Spirit of Australia (sorry, can't help myself). I loved that job immensely. Best job I've ever had. But it wasn't fulfilling. I ended up quitting after just a couple of years and moved to Latin America to fulfill our dream of serving the Lord fulltime.

Now, at times, I feel like I'm living in Hell. However, because I'm where I believe God wants me to be, my heart is content. I'm happy.

That night back in New York, as we talked about the years gone by, my beaut friend Tab asked with a grin on her face, "You think we've sold out, don't you?" That was an awkward moment for me. I had known a Rob & Tab who'd wanted so desperately to reach the Latin American people for the Lord. If it had have been that same Tab asking, then I would have replied, without hesitation, "yes, I think you've sold out."

Now sitting in front of me, Tab looked so happy. Who am I to judge where somebody's future is. Rob and Tab have two great kids, terrific jobs, a nice big house and a car each, they attend a great Church and have awesome friendships. I know they're not living for the World. In many ways I really do envy them - in some senses they've got what we've given up.

However, they have a vision for their lives, and they're running with all they've got for the Lord.  It's just in a different direction from that of years gone by. Our God has great plans for each of us. Each journey is different. It's a matter of keeping our eyes on him, and blow the rest - seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, whether you're in Managua, Rochester, Canberra, Bristol, Guadalajara, Sydney, Hong Kong, Los Angeles, etc. The truth is, here or there, we're all called to the same thing. Souls. People are important and souls are the currency of Heaven...