Nothing pulls at the heart strings of being Australian than being away from your beloved country.I have long believed your country is tattooed across your psyche for life no matter where you end up. As you know I often ponder if I could find another landscape as breath taking as that golden sun and smell of dry earth and endless bold blue. Perhaps not. And I always wonder what will it be for my kids.
But considering Hugo went to Australia Day celebrations on Wednesday and then to Chinese New Year celebrations in Chinese National Dress the day after, I hope he will have a sense of being Australian and being a member of the International Community too.
So what does being Australian mean to me; it is the sounds of Paul Kelly crooning about Kings Cross in the rain, it is eating a sausage sambo under a tree looking out for green ants, it is an afternoon beer looking at the beach, it is that breath we draw in as we dive under that first cold wave, it is sand through the house, a salty sexiness that your flat white is delivered by, it is that wide welcoming smile of folks back home.
This is what I dream; I dream of local public schools producing Prime Ministers, I dream of freedom of speech and fairness no matter what your back ground, I dream of everyone benefiting from the gifts of our nations resources, I dream of stir frying of the BBQ, I dream of our arms stretching wide across the oceans of the world. Most of all I wish for Australia to be a place of tolerance and knowledge.
There are heaps of Aussie's here, so we had a nice afternoon at a Aussie Day picnic raising
money for the flood devastation back home: Sausage sambos and an all round go at tug-o-war.
Nothing like a 3 year old to capture that less than glam moment of sinking your choppers into a snag!
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