Can has Visa?

I’m fairly sure that I would have found it easier to wash up at Brighton as an illegal immigrant seeking political asylum from a capricious and repressive regime (which I suspect it will be under Prime Minister Abbot) than it is to seek a visa legitimately. It has been a long, fraught journey, and it’s not over yet.

The online application system is pretty good and the supporting information mostly good, but maddeningly vague in a number of very key areas. Particularly when it came to advising what happens at each stage of the process, and what supporting documents are needed when seeking an ancestral visa.

I laboured late into the night, last night, to gather all the pieces of paper that I believed I needed for the “visa interview” at the consulate here today. I put on business clothes, and shaved, and wore a tie. And then when I got there I found out that the interview was just taking my fingerprints and yet another photo, and that I still had to bundle all the paperwork into an envelope and send it to Sydney. Based on the price of Platinum Express Post, the Post-Master-General or his modern equivalent must carry it personally on the back of a winged unicorn.

My understanding is that I now have 8 or 10 days anxious wait to find out if they will grant me the visa. I just want this all to be over.

Things I Won’t Miss: Item The Second

I was going to write a big rant about public transport in Brisbane, again, and even began writing one. But there’s really not much point. And I really should try to follow the dictum about remaining silent unless I have something nice to say. But I don’t.

So here it is. My message to Translink, and to Queensland Rail, and to Brisbane City Council and the Moreton Bay Regional Council: guys and gals, your transport system sucks. It’s broken, it’s annoying, it’s expensive, it’s slow, and it’s getting worse.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to be facing trains that are more crowded, probably more grubby, roads that are more packed, buses that are more rattly. But it won’t be in an environment where the service providers keep telling me that they’ve provided a great service, and that they mostly run to time and I shouldn’t expect perfection, and that the 15% fare increase so far this year is because I wanted it.

So no, I’m not going to miss any part of getting around Brisbane.

Things I will Miss: Item the First

Gum trees. And jacarandas, and leopard trees, and those sprawling shady ones with bright red flowers. And the trees in the neighbourhood – such that remain after the frenzy of tree lopping subsequent to the Big Storms before the Big Floods distracted the lopperatzi. But gum trees in particular. Not just the way they look, with their shaggy shambling foliage, and the startling diversity of textures in their bark. And not just the way they smell, although that will be part of it.

Have you ever stopped to notice how the smell of gums changes through the day, and through the year? In the cool morning air the eucalyptus scent is subtle, penetrating, ringing like a very faint chime in the distance. Under a summer sun as the cicadas ratchet up to electric intensity the scent boils out like a great soft heavy blanket. And as the sun sets the smell becomes dusty and smokey. I imagine there will be some other trees that take their place, and I know there are gums all over the world now – some of the oddest cognitive dissonance watching the continuing collapse of the old regime in Libya is seeing rows of gum trees along the street, presumably planted in the ’40s or ’50s. Maybe I will smell cypresses, or yews, or mountain-side conifers instead.

But in the end there is nothing that says Australia, or Brisbane, more than a towering grey green white grey gum tree in the evening with cockatoos or galahs or rosellas hanging heavy on the branch like fruit ready to drop, or a gum tree in the early morning with a family of squabbling kookaburras or caroling magpies.

I think I will miss gum trees.

Things I won’t miss. Item the First

The weather. Really, anyone outside Brisbane must think we live in an idyllic sub-tropical paradise, featuring sunshine and palm trees and tall cool drinks. In point of fact, the weather is a big contributor to my decision to Get The Hell Out Of Here.

Don’t get me wrong – April and October are glorious. Both are crisply cool at the right times of the day, and pleasantly warm at the others, and both have skies so clear that we can read the writing on the plaques on the moon. April in Brisbane invigorates, and October excites. I find the rest of the year alternately poisonous and irritating.

The long crawl into and through Summer is characterised by high temperatures and high humidity, and the violent storms bring no relief, only more water to saturate the air. It’s too hot not to be in the shade, and the still damp air in the shade requires scuba gear to breathe. Your skin feels sticky all the time, and your clothes cling to you like plastic wrap.

Winter is almost worse, and last weekend was a good example. We were camped out for a living history event, a most pleasant and fun weekend hosted by Condottieri. The nights were cool – not cold, it never gets that cold in Brisbane, only down to the point of needing a blanket or too, and a warm coat to go to the nearest tree when required – and the mornings were crisp. And the middle of the day was damned hot in the sun, too hot to really be wearing heavy 15th century clothes, let alone flailing around with swords and halberds. And on Sunday it rained. Now rain is ok. It was cool rain, and heavier than I enjoyed knowing that the tent was not going to be dry when I took it down, but not unpleasant. Until it stopped, and the day just turned sullen and warm and sodden and damp.

One or the other is pleasant. Hot and dry. Cold and dry. Even cold and damp, or cold and wet, can be borne and worked around. But Hot and Wet is awful, debilitating, draining, and inescapable.

So no, I won’t miss Brisbane weather. Except maybe a little bit in April and October.

Here we go

We’ve talked about this for a long time in general terms. We’ve talked about it for most of the year in specific terms. And now, having booked plane tickets to fly out of Brisbane at 3:00 AM on November 25th, we’re talking about it in absolutely concrete terms.

I’m not counting down. I’ve promised to not count down. But my goodness there’s a lot to get done.

I am surprised how complicated it is to clear the house out in preparation for renting it. I would have thought that I would be overrun by people wanting cheap or free Stuff, but that’s not proving the case. Oh, I listed a lot of tools for ridiculously low prices, and most of that has gone, or is going. I’ve passed along a few books (and there’s another 98 listed available for the taking in this list. There’s a few simple things that I’ve done, or can do. The filing cabinet has been purged, and is gone, and most of the should-retain paper is boxed up. I’ll take all the CDs out of their cases and put them in sleeves in a small box. And probably do the same with DVDs. I know where the computers are going, and where I can store things.

But good grief, every time I look in a cupboard I think “what on earth will I do with this”.

Perhaps we should have a garage/house/porch sale. Put everything on the floor and say “take it, it’s yours”