Last week, I shared the stories for me getting married in two weeks of meeting my husband and moving to Australia leaving behind everything. Today, I'll delve into the experience of settling into my new life in the Down Under.
74. Begonias
When I joined my husband, he was settled in Ballarat, a charming small town nestled an hour's drive from Melbourne. As we drove into the town for the first time, I was spellbound with what I was seeing. Each house had a front lawn, a spacious backyard, and a wooden fence enclosing it. Back home, we had houses tightly packed, with minimal vacant space. Coming from a place where green spaces were scarce, the abundance of lush lawns was something out of fairy tales. The roofs so different too. In India, the roofs were flat and made of concrete. Here they had gabled roofs.
As we traversed Ballarat’s streets, I fell in love with its beauty. Wide, serene streets lined with Begonia flowers in full bloom. That was the first time I had seen the Begonias and they have become my favourite flowers. To date whenever I see them they remind me of my arrival in Ballarat.
Each year in March, Ballarat holds Begonia festival. They are in full bloom at this time of the year.
75. My First Home
At the end of the drive, I found myself in a cozy two-bedroom apartment nestled at the end of a tranquil street, overlooking a nature reserve. Stepping into my new abode, my eyes immediately gravitated towards a book rack brimming with an impressive collection. I had never seen that many books in a house before, and now I owned them. That instantly made me feel at home. (Forty seven years later, I still have that book rack and most of the books).
Our apartment boasted all the essentials: a spacious lounge, a welcoming coffee table, a dining area, a comfortable bed, and a notably well-stocked kitchen. My husband had been prudent in his purchases, acquiring household necessities along with his married friends who were building their household. This foresight spared us the immediate financial strain of furnishing our new home from scratch.
While it initially felt like stepping into a realm of abundance, the reality soon set in – we had accumulated a considerable amount of debt. Expenses incurred from the wedding, international calls to India, and the costs of relocation had taken their toll on our finances. Where I came from, debt was unheard of. My parents never had any debt. Starting my new life with a debt was something I was finding hard to fathom, little did I know that we will have much bigger debt in terms of mortgage for the rest of our lives.
76. The Gold Mine
Our apartment nestled near an old gold mine, which was turned into tourist attraction (known as Sovereign Hill). Soon after my arrival we went to explore its historical allure. Venturing there we found ourselves amidst a meticulously recreated 19th-century village, where men and women strolled in period attire.
A part of the old mine was open to the tourist and inside I could see thing gold streaks embedded in the rocks. A stream coming from the mine still had traces of gold where hopeful prospectors were sifting through sand in search of elusive gold flakes. I too tried my luck but the novelty wore off after a few futile attempts.
77. My First Car
My husband had two cars: one provided by his workplace and one of his own. His personal vehicle was a Datsun, which became our second home on weekends. In the ensuing months, we explored Australia in true Aussie way–by car.
Our first visit was to the Phillip Island, about four hour trip from Ballarat. It was there I saw the beach for the very first time and witnessed spectacle of fairy penguins. In the next trip we ventured to Latrobe Valley, where the towering electricity generators loomed. My husband used to work there with State Electricity Commission. We ventured into Moe, a small town where my husband lived and drove three nights a week to attend classes at RMIT Melbourne while doing his MBA. In explored Gippsland for its scenic beauty and wonders of Wilsons Promontory National Park. We drove along the Great Ocean Road which was built after the World War II to give work to the men returning home from war witnessing the majestic sight of the Twelve Apostles.
Our weekdays were spent immersed in the tranquility of Ballarat, while weekends were spent with my husband's friends, my new family, either travelling or partying. We indulged in celebrating their children's birthdays, all night cards parties and or BBQ picnics. BBQs were a totally concept for me too. After each excursion I would write long letters home both to my parents and my husband’s parents describing them what I was witnessing.
During Christmas break, we embarked on a road trip to Adelaide. It was then for the first time I saw the vast expense of Australia. Against the backdrop of an unobstructed horizon, I could see the curvature of the earth. I had never seen the sun so big and bright and moon so close by.
78. My First Driving Lesson
Having nothing else to do, and with a spare car sitting in the carport, my husband suggested that I should learn to drive. He offered to teach me himself. One fine day he took me to the dirt road behind our home which separated the suburb from the nature reserve. It appeared to be a safe choice as no car ever came on that road. But there was a big problem. There were the two-meter-deep ditch on both sides of the road.
My husband got out of the car, made me sit in the driving seat, and explained all the controls. I adjusted all the mirrors, put on the seat belt, and got ready for my maiden drive. My husband sat in the passenger seat and asked me to release the brakes and let the car roll a bit.
I took my foot off the brake and nothing happened.
He asked me to put my foot on the accelerator and press it slightly.
I fumbled with my foot to find the next pedal and pressed it slightly. Nothing happened again. The gravel road held the car firmly in place.
"Bit harder," instructed my husband calmly.
I obeyed. The car lurched forward and headed straight for the ditch.
"STOP! STOP! STOP!" I heard my husband’s yelling from some distant place.
To date, I still don’t know how my foot found the brake and pressed it with all my strength, stopping the car just inches from the ditch.
Without a word, my husband got out of the car, got in the driving seat, and drove us back home. Hours later, when he calmed down a bit, he said, “Never ever ask me to teach you driving again.”
But I didn’t even ask him the first time. He offered.
79. Second Ph.D.
Three months slipped by like a breeze. I read a lot of books and watched a lot of TV. But there was an emptiness. I hadn’t engaged my mind for almost a year and it was killing me. There was nothing for me to do in Ballarat. I scrolled the course curriculum of the local TAFF college but there was nothing there that was suitable for me.
It was then my husband decided we should relocate to Melbourne. Having spent over two years in Ballarat, he recognized it was time for a change for him too and urged me to seek job opportunities as well. I began scouring the Melbourne newspapers for research positions, but my biggest hurdle for me was writing my resume. I had no idea how to write one. My husband’s writing skills came handy and together we crafted a one page resume on a typewriter.
One afternoon, when my husband was at work and I was at home alone, I received a phone call. The person identified himself and told me where he was ringing from but I couldn’t understand because of his accent. He said he received my job application and wanted me to come for an interview. Overwhelmed by panic, I hastily jotted down the details. As the call ended, tears welled up, and I immediately called my husband, imploring him to return home.
My husband came back home rushing and found me in tears. I told him I have been asked to come for an interview and have no idea for which job and where. My husband calmed me down and inquired if I had noted the phone number, which I had. By deducing the area code, he speculated it was near Melbourne Central. Reluctant to call the phone number out of embarrassment, we reviewed all the job applications, ultimately surmising that it was from the Melbourne University, Department of Biochemistry.
The following week, my husband drove me to the university, where I dialed the number and thankfully I was at the right place. The interview went smoothly and I was offered the research scholar (another Ph.D.) position with a generous scholarship. I had walked out of one Ph.D. and got another one, this time at Tier 1 university in the world, working on a CSIRO-funded project in Molecular Biology.
80. Centrifuge Machine
The next few months flew by quickly. I was delving in a new field, Molecular Biology, and there was an plenty to learn. My project focused on genetically modifying cheese-making bacteria to halve the cheese-making time. The laboratory I was working in was well-equipped, and the small cohort of students who worked there shared the resources harmoniously. My mentor was affable and supportive, guiding me through the challenges. However, amidst this progress, one issue persisted.
Each morning, my husband and I departed simultaneously. Since my university lay along his route to work, he would dropped me off in the mornings and picked me up in the evenings. Despite his work ending around 5 pm, he would often lingered for an extra hour to accommodate my experiments, ensuring we could commute home together.
Yet, scientific endeavours seldom adhere to strict schedules. Many times, I found myself delaying our departure, leaving him waiting in a no-parking zone. On one such occasion, I attempted to halt a centrifuge machine by slowing it down with my finger—a foolish decision that risked damaging a machine worth thousands of dollars. A fellow student saw me doing it and reported to our professor, who sternly cautioned me against repeating such actions.
This incident served as a poignant reminder. I needed to choose between pursuing my Ph.D. or nurturing my marriage. I could either continue chasing a piece of paper that would give me the privilege to put the word ‘Dr’ in front of my name or I could offer my husband the companionship he craved so much after five years of living alone in a foreign land.
81. My First Job
I had befriended a fellow lab mate, an Iranian woman, a few years my senior. She was mother of two children and had already completed her Ph.D. Despite her numerous publications and expertise she was employed as a research assistant and was being paid very little.
One day, as we strolled through the Melbourne University campus, we passed by a bank. My friend made a striking remark: “Even the bank tellers were earning more than us.” Her words made me pause. What she suggested next altered the trajectory of my life.
"Let’s go and ask for a job in the bank," she proposed.
"Just like that?" I asked incredulously.
"That’s how I got all my jobs so far. Come!" she insisted.
So we entered the bank and requested to see the bank manager. The manager, an amiable older gentleman, welcomed us into his impressive office and asked a few questions about our backgrounds and job search. We left our details with him, and I didn't dwell on the encounter afterward.
A few days later, I received a call from the bank offering me a part-time position as a teller to start immediately. I was stunned. My friend was far more presentable, articulate, and experienced than me, yet she hadn't been offered the job, while I had.
I had to make a decision within a couple of days. It seemed like the job offer came at the right time for me. I had come to realize that even with a Ph.D., my prospects for a fulfilling career in my field were minimal. In a moment, I made the decision to transition from pioneering research and highly intellectual work to the seemingly mundane job of a bank teller.
82. Public Service
Working at the bank proved beneficial in more ways than one. Interacting with numerous customers daily significantly improved my spoken English and get familiar with the Australian accent.
And since it was a part-time position, I had ample free time in the afternoons, allowing me to enroll in a proper driving school and learn to drive.
After a few months, I stumbled upon an opportunity to sit for the Australian Public Service entrance exam. I took the exam without much preparation and managed to pass. Shortly after, I was offered an entry-level position at the Australian Taxation Office. Although it was a full-time role with better pay and conditions, the work itself was soul-crushing. I spent my days sitting at a desk, sifting through piles of builders' applications, ensuring they had correctly submitted their quarterly activity statements.
As soon as I would complete one pile, another would appear on my desk, demanding the same meticulous scrutiny to ensure accuracy. It was, without a doubt, the most boring job I had ever done.
However, amidst the monotony, there was a silver lining. With the introduction of computers in the workplace, we were required to spend two hours each day inputting data from physical files onto the computer terminals. Since it was an opportunity to learn a new skill to learn, and I eagerly anticipated this task every day.
At this time, my husband and I decided to start a family.
That’s all from me this week.
See you next Friday.
I love your story and writing. You provide me with glimpses of different cultures that are personal and poignant. I would never have the courage to move to a new country.
I love this concept and I loved reading about you (a total stranger). I did finish my PhD and am now looking to pivot into something else because of the hours and pay, so I guess you didn't miss out on too much after all!