Socially Awkward?

Ever since I moved to Melbourne I am trying to figure out if Melbournians are cold, filled with an almost royal chill, but every time I conclude that I meet someone exceptionally nice and I brush off this idea, even accusing myself of having misconceptions. The fact that I made many good friends in this city strikes me as the ultimate proof that Melbournians are actually nice. However, among them, and is not so different in other places, are some truly socially awkward individuals re-enforcing ridiculous social rules. What’s very sad is that such rules every day, and this is ran under a state government initiative. It’s extremely helpful for working parents like us and it’s not expensive. My daughter, being the only child, always loved little kids and asked for a little brother or sister. This never happened, but she plays with small kids at school and is very nice and gentle with them. They are the brothers and sisters she never had… Well, until yesterday, when the after-school teachers told my daughter and the little girl she played with for a long time, that they are not allowed to play together anymore because they have to make friends of their own age. The ridiculous rule hurt both kids and can only explain the socially awkwardness behind some of the grown-ups I have seen occasionally. Yes, I will talk with the personnel caring for the kids, but I am offended I even have to bring up the subject. The situation throws me back in time, about 100 years ago, in the Aussie or British orphanages I dread even reading about, because of the cruelty the carers imposed on small children.

Running Around, Asleep or Awake

I am in the Arkaroola Village, a very remote place in the Flinders Ranges. A $65 a night room feels like a shoebox with two beds and a shower, no soap, TV set, fridge or any other luxuries. You walk in straight from the parking lot, and the room windows are big holes that barely separate you from the street through a cellophane-thick sheet of glass. It’s a place where you have to arrive exhausted, crash into bed, sleep and then go the following morning… Spiders hang in observation, strategically, from two opposite corners of the room. They are watching me, the old furniture reflected in the dark brown linoleum, or the warning signs of a mouse plague hanging on the wall? The covers, a rodent grey shade, are lighter than the sheets, and I can almost distinguish footprints on them. I pray the sheets are clean and at no moment of the night I touch the covers. I smell disinfectant, old poison and spider feet, then I fall asleep. I dream that I am not in Arkaroola, where I just enjoyed seeing the stars like light bulbs through the heavy lens of the Arkaroola Observatory. I am back in Melbourne, watching a pink and purple sunset with boats, crystal waters and a sweet flavored breeze. I am walking alongside St. Kilda Beach thinking of how I got there and how easy I hover, asleep or awake, among all these places I’ve seen in my life.