Raise your hand if, at some point in your life, you've dreamed about packing up your belongings and moving around the world to another country. So far, this is my third move to another country in my life. Interestingly enough you may see and feel things very differently depending on your age, even if it's moving to the same country. Early in my life I hoped and felt deep in my heart that any place had to be better than America.
At the young age of 18, as a Freshman in college, I heard an announcement that if students scored well in their first year, they would be eligible to study for a year in Rome, Italy in an exchange program. I was so excited even though I didn't have a clue what an exchange program was at all. I initially thought it would be an indentured servant role that we had read about in our history class. Later, I became very concerned because I wasn't sure what or where Rome was located. I thought it must be near Paris, Texas. Nevertheless all I could think about was a way to get out of school and have fun with friends. I went to see the college counsellor and he explained everything to me. He even showed me how far it was on his big wall map, then on his gigantic globe of the world. I was beyond excited until he told me how much everything would cost me for air fare, housing, books and living day to day in a foreign country. He saw the tears in my eyes and I could see that he was planning something by the way he smiled. He assured me not to worry about anything and signed me up for a year away someplace where they didn't speak English. I later found out that he paid for everything out of his pocket and I gave him pre-dated checks that could be cashed once I returned from a year away. I was so excited I called my mother to tell her the good news, but she was angry and didn't approve of me going to another country. I didn't understand her objection at the time, but as I have matured, I understand how a parent would feel about their naive child who had never been anywhere going so far away. She threatened me with no minimum allowance and no support at all for my hardheadedness. I simply said okay, thanks mom. By the way, my counsellor never cashed the post-dated checks I gave to him as my repayment.
A few months later I packed my belongings and cheerfully got on a plane for the first time in my life with many of my classmates and flew into Rome's Leonardo da Vinci International Airport, also called Fiumicino Airport. All we talked about was going out partying and learning how to drink. Once landed a large bus was waiting to take us to our exchange college campus that was located inside a large building about 30 minutes away from the center of Rome. Our school was located in a placed called the International Hotel. It was my first time being inside of a hotel. That's when I realised that the other 78 students were no different from me and the only other Black person, May Bell Green. We were all scared and none of us had been out of the country before.
I loved Rome, but there was a lot to learn. Upon arrival we were lectured about the courses that we would be taking for the year. Those courses included: Italian, French, English, World History, and Philosophy. We all groaned aloud together. Then we cheered when it was announced that school was 4 days per week and we could travel for 3 days around Europe. The unusual part of school was that most of it was on the road. World History was taught on site. Trips included history lessons to the various beautiful sites all over Italy, including the Vatican, ancient Greece to visit the ruins, the South of France and several areas of Spain.
Being young, it was easier to adapt to change. It was hardest for me to like Italian food since I had never seen it before. I thought, did they create this food to punish me. I refused to eat for many weeks until they won me over with sweet treats if I would eat the pasta. I also fell in love with the Italians. They were polite and much nicer than Americans had been to me. People treated me as a family member and talked to me a lot. I would usually smile because I didn't understand them. They taught me how to milk cows and how to churn butter. To my surprise all of the students bonded together like family and we all looked out for each other. At the end of the year, I decided to drop out of college and tour around for a year. My mother didn't approve of it, but I did it anyway and lived in Paris with my French teacher and very little money.
Twenty years later, I got the itch again to throw everything to the wind and start planning my next escape from the American life of living and breathing to work. I wasn't unhappy, but I wasn't happy either. Everything was like, whatever and who cares. So I took a trip to Paris, fell in love and decided to give everything away to friends and relocate. One thing I learned from the experience is to be very careful whom you tell that you are moving far away. As the time got closer for me to move, I started to get cold feet and in my mind decided that America wasn't so bad after all and I had a pretty good life, but it was too late. My friends kept me on my timeline, scheduled parties and helped me to sell things. It was a festive time but I cried because for the first time I was terrified of this move.
I made the move to Paris with the love of my life. For some reason, being in my 40s came with higher expectations. This wasn't an easy move for me. I had been taking French for years and was at the top of my class until I arrived in Paris and realised that I couldn't understand what was being said to me nor could I speak the language correctly and with the right accent. I felt mentally drained. The more I tried the more challenging it became. Also learning how the French did things confused me, like buying vegetables and understanding the weights of things that we didn't use in America. Even learning how to wash clothes at the laundromat was not easy. A group of older women yelled at me to get my attention from breaking the washing machine by trying to force my coins into the machines. Four of them, rather large, grabbed me in a hug and took me over to a machine where they inserted my money and out popped a token that went into the slot to start the washer and dryer. They smiled when they looked and me and I responded, Je suis desolee et merci beaucoup mesdames. For the first 3 months in Paris I walked around with my head down so that no one would stop to ask me a question or for directions. It didn't work, I was constantly being stopped. Every morning I would go to buy 2 croissants because I could say one correctly. I would always break into a sweat because without fail, the staff would come from behind the counter, grab my face and make me say croissant over and over again until I said it correctly. I never could say one correct enough for them. So every morning it was, Je voudrais deux croissants sil vous plait.
Learning to ride the subway was very confusing to me. Terrified to enter the gate, my french partner saw the fear in my eyes as I stood there shaking like a leaf on a tree. Being a teacher, he started the lesson of how to ride the French subway 101. After quite a lecture, I never forgot to this day how to ride the train and to get around Paris without fear. I registered for french school at the Alliance Française. The director of the school told me that my French was horrible, but that she had never seen anyone try so hard to pass the oral tests that I failed. She said because I didn't give up, she would take me under her wing and out voted her colleagues and allowed me to enter the school which was every day, 6 hours per day.There I met many friends that I still know today. We bonded with each other because we were all struggling to learn french. We were all from a different countries. My new friends/classmates were from Japan, China, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, Spain, Portugal and Austria. So we practiced the few words of french we knew everyday. Many lessons were learned that I still cherish today, such as, spending quality time with people you love and care about, enjoying good food, savouring good wine and learning to relax and laugh. When I first arrived the French told me that Americans and Germans are too uptight and that I should learn to stop being so precise about everything. At first I became angry that they were attacking me for being American, then I laughed so hard that champagne came out of my nose. The biggest lesson for me was understanding how well I was treated. No one focused on my race at all, except to compliment me on my colouring and the colour of my hair. I started to relax and enjoy not receiving negative attention and living under fear as I did in the United States 24/7. Mind you, France had their issues, but with other races. It took me a while to see it and then try to understand why. I focused my attention on reading and learning the history of France and chatting more with new friends to get information about how and why other people were treated poorly.
After less than two years I ended everything and returned to America because my mother had become ill in Texas. My plans were to return to Paris again after she got well, but sometimes even the best laid plans can be interrupted or deleted. Being in Paris changed my life and when I looked in the mirror I could tell that I was a very different person. I was calmer, more confident and definitely more relaxed. My American friends said that I was too relaxed and they complained that I had become undependable and often late for appointments to meet them. I smiled and thought to myself, at least I am not as uptight as all of you. I was in love again and working harder than ever to start a business, take care of my mother and make a name for myself in my much loved field of public relations and marketing. Life was good. I had a great partner, a good life and was offered lots of gigs. I also worked with people that I trusted completely. Then snap!
Around 2016, I started to feel that annoying hat on my head again. Now being much older and more mature it didn't take me much time to recognise what was bothering me. I had just completed 3 years working with the Obama Administration in Washington DC, managing a national youth anti-drug media campaign called Above the Influence in the Office of National Drug Control Policy. I kept thinking, why am I not walking on water from all the excitement and success? It didn't take long to realise that America was poisonous if your skin was not white. Being in the San Francisco Bay Area for most of my life, I had been sheltered from the atrocities that most black and brown people dealt with everyday in other parts of the country, especially the South. I started reading and watching more news and the murders, killings, lynchings and cross burnings on lawns reminded me of the hatred that existed when I was growing up in the South. It didn't scare me, but I could feel the gloves going on as I was ready to fight for any injustice towards anyone of colour. Once again I was becoming the Incredible Hulk character, standing up for truth and for what was right. Then I started to notice how things happening in California started to resemble horrendous things that were happening in the South. Blacks and Latinos were being beaten by police officers, attacked by white racists groups and called derogatory names. I started to notice that people of colour were not being hired in positions across the board even though they were more qualified than those receiving positions without even applying. Once again I started feeling the unrest in my soul sending me a message to start planning for what's next in my life. For over 20 years I resided in and loved the San Francisco Bay Area, but it started to turn my stomach. It was no longer my home. It suddenly dawned on me that America has never been my home and that I was really stateless or a man without a country.
In 2019, my partner who is Australian and I decided to once again throw caution to the wind and start creating a project plan of a new life in Australia. I started my new life in Melbourne in January 2020 with lots of reluctance. No matter what people say, moving is never easy, even if it's just to a different neighbourhood in a city where you live. Every day I have my challenges that often feel like a punch in the face. Some of the punches include: lots of immigration paperwork, not to mention fees. I have been fortunate enough to be with a loving family that's helping me to adjust. My learning curve has been high. Australians drive on the other side of the road which scared me for 2 or 3 months. It just looks odd. And no, I am in no hurry to start driving yet. Locking and unlocking doors threw me off because you turn the key the opposite way. Early on I would walk around the house unlocking all the doors, thinking that I was locking them. I am finally learning to look to the right and then to the left before crossing any street. My partner taught me how to walk along the side walk, he often would say, just look to see the way cars are going. If the cars traveling the way I am heading are on the right, then I should be walking on the right. Everything is the opposite of how things are done in America. Australians speak English, but trust me, it doesn't help me to understand them any better. Often I am at a loss, but I have started to use both of my ears to listen and to hear what is being said. Yep, it's getting easier unless I am on the phone then I am like a 2 year old talking to a foreigner.
Shopping for food in the market has taken a while for me to adjust and locate where things are placed in the store. Asking questions has also been tricky when I use the wrong words. For example, when I asked for cilantro, I get a strange look like I used profanity, then they say oh, you mean coriander? That's when I say, huh? When I was first taken to a bar, I had to practice in the mirror at home how to request a beer from the bartender so I could be understood. Going for coffee was another challenge. The coffee I like to drink is called a short black. I was ready to fight when my order was called and I was the only short black man in the cafe. Or, scones are we call biscuits in America. I still haven't figured out my weight in kilograms yet. I do know that since COVID-19 I have been eating and gaining weight like it's the Last Supper being celebrated every day. I am working on seeing how fat I am so I can translate it into pounds and start screaming. The hardest for me was learning how to translate the temperature so I would know if I should wear wool long underwear or a pair of shorts and a tank top to go for a walk.
I have gotten use to the Twilight Zone place that I landed in 5 months ago. It has taken this long to realise that I don't miss home because it's a figment of my imagination that looks great in my head and memories only. What I do miss the most are my true friends that I love so much. COVID-19 has even helped me to recreate what's normal. Now I see my friends more on Zoom, Skype or FaceTime chats and we laugh and pick up right where we left off. I find myself more in touch with my friends and family members more than when I lived near them. I am so grateful for this chapter of my life. I really miss Mexican food and my Chinese Chow Fun noodles. I found chow mein noodles, but I am still searching. There may be another name for them.
One of the best things about living in Melbourne is being able to reimagine my life. It's the longest period of my life where I feel comfortable walking around town without fear. The first 2 months here I kept waiting for someone to call me a nasty name or disrespect me in some way. I would go out expecting to be mistreated or harassed as I was in America every where. Going into a pharmacy to purchase an orange juice was a red flag that the little black man was there to steal, rob or kill someone. Can you imagine expecting a fight or to be jailed or beaten every day of your life? That's what it's like for most people of colour in America. I love that no one in Australia cares about the colour of my skin and it feels like a very heavy road sign has been lifted off of my back. It's such a great feeling that's difficult to explain to anyone who hasn't felt it before.
Another major lesson in life has been accepting that people are the same all over the world. There are good people here, negative people, kind people and even grumpy people too. I use to always expect another city, state or country to be perfect, but Australia has reminded me that there is really no difference and it's important how I think about myself. One major item that I miss are the many valuable contacts I had to get me and colleagues to the right people to make things happen. I now must work twice as hard to make new friends, contacts and learn how the system moves. The incredible lesson is becoming more patient with myself and to be kinder to me.
So once again I can feel myself evolving into a better person that shows more kindness to others and I savour every memorable experience or encounter each and every day. I still struggle with internal fights between the mind, body and soul, but the 3 of them are becoming friends again and working better together. Today, I live in the present, not yesterday and not tomorrow. I am grateful for the opportunity to start a new chapter in my twilight zone life.
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