Letter from Australia #5

Two hundred and three years after the first Yorkshireman sailed into Botany Bay another one made a less spectacular appearance at the most famous stretch of water in all of Australasia. Our approach was not sailing through the heads in a 30 ton bark of the Royal Navy but rather, walking from the bus stop on Botany Road. We were about to raise the flag in an unfurnished rental on the end of Livingstone Avenue, a street which, if not for a wire-mesh fence would have run straight into the clear waters of the bay. It was our first week in Australia and this was to be our first address.

We had no car, neither of us could even drive, no luggage except the two suitcases we were carrying and about £30 in the bank. From our accommodation in the block of flats a narrow, well worn track lead down to a small beach which disappeared at high tide when the water lapped against the grassy bank. Our bedroom window looked out across the bay and that first sunset is one I’ll never forget. The sun glinted on the water and turned the horizon into a fiery orange. Somewhere close by, another lost soul was playing a Tarantella on the accordion (we soon discovered that our block of flats was the United Nations of immigrants). I can’t remember what we slept on that night but I know we held each other tight and dreamed of the wonderful future we had before us.

I’m not trying to paint a rosy picture of Botany Bay, when we arrived early in 1973, the northern shore closest to the city had already lost most of its charm. Botany the suburb was sandwiched between Sydney airport and the oil refinery at Banksmeadow and it had a dubious reputation for petty crime, extortion and wanna-be gangsters. The local pub told the story well, named after Cook’s botanist on the Endeavour, the Sir Joseph Banks Hotel was once a venue for Sydney’s well-to-do who came dressed in their finest attire to stroll around the grounds and take lunch in the park overlooking the bay. Now it’s just another watering hole for heavy drinkers who spill out into the street on sunny days with their schooners of Tooheys, smoking, swearing and spitting. But even so, in the midst of all this, a young, newly married childless couple with the world at their feet could find a ‘Bella Notte’ romance in any situation.

Today, Botany Bay is a mass of refineries, wharfs, container terminals and airport runways. The little path which we walked is long gone, a 4-lane freeway has somehow appeared on reclaimed land where Captain Cook once dropped anchor and from our vantage point at the end of Livingstone Avenue the bay is now almost out of sight. We’ve moved on and our time there is a distant memory but we don’t regret the years we spent living on the bay, transportation today is not what it used to be.

Two hundred and three years after the first Yorkshireman sailed into Botany Bay another one made a less spectacular appearance at the most famous stretch of water in all of Australasia. Our approach was not sailing through the heads in a 30 ton bark of the Royal Navy but rather, walking from the bus stop on Botany Road. We were about to raise the flag in an unfurnished rental on the end of Livingstone Avenue, a street which, if not for a wire-mesh fence would have run straight into the clear waters of the bay. It was our first week in Australia and this was to be our first address.

 

We had no car, neither of us could even drive, no luggage except the two suitcases we were carrying and about £30 in the bank. From our accommodation in the block of flats a narrow, well worn track lead down to a small beach which disappeared at high tide when the water lapped against the grassy bank. Our bedroom window looked out across the bay and that first sunset is one I’ll never forget. The sun glinted on the water and turned the horizon into a fiery orange. Somewhere close by, another lost soul was playing a Tarantella on the accordion (we soon discovered that our block of flats was the United Nations of immigrants). I can’t remember what we slept on that night but I know we held each other tight and dreamed of the wonderful future we had before us.

 

I’m not trying to paint a rosy picture of Botany Bay, when we arrived early in 1973, the northern shore closest to the city had already lost most of its charm. Botany the suburb was sandwiched between Sydney airport and the oil refinery at Banksmeadow and it had a dubious reputation for petty crime, extortion and wanna-be gangsters. The local pub told the story well, named after Cook’s botanist on the Endeavour, the Sir Joseph Banks Hotel was once a venue for Sydney’s well-to-do who came dressed in their finest attire to stroll around the grounds and take lunch in the park overlooking the bay. Now it’s just another watering hole for heavy drinkers who spill out into the street on sunny days with their schooners of Tooheys, smoking, swearing and spitting. But even so, in the midst of all this, a young, newly married childless couple with the world at their feet could find a ‘Bella Notte’ romance in any situation.

 

Today, Botany Bay is a mass of refineries, wharfs, container terminals and airport runways. The little path which we walked is long gone, a 4-lane freeway has somehow appeared on reclaimed land where Captain Cook once dropped anchor and from our vantage point at the end of Livingstone Avenue the bay is now almost out of sight. We’ve moved on and our time there is a distant memory but we don’t regret the years we spent living on the bay, transportation today is not what it used to be.

Entertaining post matey, I'm glad you stuck it out. Being a first generation immigrant myself, I can fully appreciate your sentiments and your wanting to express them on this forum in your hometown. Cheers.

Brilliant post. How brave you were to take that massive step. It sounds as if you have never regretted it. We have family in Australia and hopefully one day we will get to go there.

Enjoyed reading this and I do admire your courage as I do all expats who move to another country miles from home, I would be scared of the unknown. Can’t be easy leaving family and friends behind and with only £30, knowing that you will miss occasions, like christmas and birthdays. I’m sure keeping in touch is a bit easier these days for new expats because of better technology such as Skype.

Hope your new country lived up to it’s expectations.

Thanks for all of your encouraging replies, it really was just like that. Australia has been good to us, this part of Australia (Tasmania) has surpassed our expectations. Hope you can get here one day thorphanger.

Loved your post Downunder. Found it really touching. It was like the first chapter of a good book! Hope there's more to come.

I also hope there is more to come. I’m curious to know what their first job was because they didn’t have much money so I would imagine they needed to find work straight away. Where they moved to after leaving the flats.

It was a lovely piece of creative writing, something I could never do, so I will keep my fingers crossed Downsunder will do few more chapters, covering a ten year period of his life.

You could search for Letter from Australia #4 which happens 2 years later when we were still living in Botany but yes, I will fill in the blanks in later posts. Thanks for reading.

You could search for Letter from Australia #4 which happens 2 years later when we were still living in Botany but yes, I will fill in the blanks in later posts. Thanks for reading.

Just read Australia#4, now I’m curious to know why you went to art school, so I will sit back and hope you will fill in the blanks at some stage.