Where are you from?

This is the question I often need to answer. There is nothing wrong with such a question in general terms, but for quite a while it irritated me and even upset me sometimes. I have not felt comfortable with my emotional reaction. I wondered if somewhere in my deep subconscious I felt inferior for being Polish. I did not like such an option, but maybe it was something in it after all. People in the old communistic block had a different lifestyle, substandard regarding affluence. The difference made us feel inferior to some extent, and the value of culture and richness of intellectual life was considered to be compensation. The system now belongs to the past and some changes in Polish societies are not necessarily positive.

I was born Polish, and now I live in Australia. Most of the time, I feel that I am an Australian. I retained my “charming” accent, but even being aware of that accent does not make me feel any worse or different. We have so many accents here, in Australia.

So, why the question irritates me still? I sometimes even answer – From Mosman – playing innocently unaware of the real intention of the question. Mosman is the suburb I live in. On the question of nationality, I answer – Australian. This is true; I have a dual nationality. I am not a person who invites controversy. At least, not often. So, why do I bite in this case? Suddenly, the reason and justification for my reaction came to me. I realized that such a question marks one as different, not belonging. This is an excluding question if asked early in a conversation and without any practical need to know the answer.

                                   

In times of the refugee’s issues bothering the world, it is particularly important to think twice before we mark someone as being on the outside and not allowing them in. I am not going to fight any battles in this post, I have not thought it through enough, but I know that classifying someone as an outsider, hurts. If we do so, let’s realize the hurt of the other as well as our own need for security which may be based on false grounds.

On belonging and Melbourne Cup

People who know Australia, understand that Melbourne Cup day, the first Tuesday of November is very special time to most Australians. Not exactly a national holiday but definitely a national day to celebrate this very special thoroughbred horses race, the race which stops the nation.

In my first year in Australia I was introduced to the rules of the day. The rules one has to follow if one wants to belong. First of all you need to place a bet either directly with TAB, Australia's Number 1 racing betting place, or through a sweep stake of a place you spend your Melbourne Cup in. The second rule is that you have to drink champagne and the third one obliges women to wear a hat or a fascinator. You just have to do it to feel an Australian. I, like most people, like to feel that I belong. My earlier post  covered my sentiments and thoughts on the subject.

I follow the Melbourne Cup rules except about the bit of wearing a hat or a fascinator. Maybe I need to put some more attention to it the next year and get myself something pretty, even though I think it is a bit silly.

I spent my first Melbourne Cup in an IBM office. One of my colleagues, who in fact was Scottish, but very much into betting and celebrating with alcohol, took care of the proceedings. Obviously he was going to place his bets in TAB, he was big on betting and I was asked to participate. I did not know anything about horses so I chose my favourite based on its name. I believe that I was Colonel Bill. I am not sure now but I remember that it was something military in the name of the horse. I got myself some sweepstakes tickets as well. When in Rome… Not having any knowledge of the horses, I won some money by chance and earned some respect amongst my colleagues and became a part of the team’s betting circle. I was very proud of it even if I was totally out of my depth in the subject. It did not stop me betting and for quite some months I was successful at it. Pretending brought fun and improved my reputation.

Later on, when I worked as an IT manager I was often invited to Melbourne Cup celebrations organized by recruitment companies. It was rather nice part of my professional responsibility to attend parties, especially that they very often took place on boats. Sydney Harbour with its extremely spectacular views, champagne, seafood lunch, national race and happy people around... Hard job, but someone has to do it. They were really nice times.

Now, that such invitations belong to the past, the Melbourne Cup lost its attractiveness to some extend. But tradition is tradition. I had a couple of invitations this year. One to my bowling club and one to my bridge club. I felt very lucky being able to choose and I chose the bridge club celebrations. It was fun. I love playing bridge, even if after a long break in playing I am a beginner again. Catching up, though. It was a lot of bridge in the morning and I enjoyed playing with my newly found partner, Florence. Lovely name, isn’t it? We got on very well. Bridge results were not outstanding but I enjoyed the game. The lunch broke my new sensible eating habit and champagne was of course on the menu. All according to the rules.

 Most of the ladies had pretty head adornments, I did not have any. But I was called to be a part of the jury to allocate prices for the best hats.

One of the most spectacular fascinators that I like

                                                   

Nobody concentrated for a race really except for those few minutes when the race took place. We all had our sweepstakes tickets.  I drew Pirate of Penzance and the horse won! The winning paid for the whole event. Lucky me.

As I found out later, from a friendly post, there is a very nice and touching story behind the winning jockey, Michlelle Payne, a first woman winning Melbourne Cup . It pleased me, of course, to see a talented person demonstrating her ability in a discipline not typically considered feminine. 

The winning moments

                                                 

Little Italy in Mosman

The last Saturday was a  good and fun day. It tasted especially well as it was my first outing after some difficult days of recuperating at home. I live in a suburb that I do not automatically identify with considering its style, interests and values. It is, still,  a convenient and beautiful place. I like living in Mosman for many reasons. However, I do not feel that I belong and this is my job and challenge to change. My new resolution is to start participating in some of the Mosman activities, find out more on how I could make a contribution and start participating in the life of the village I live in. I think I will start form the bridge club visit.

I have already written so much about my holidays in Florence that I may even have earned a label of a firm lover of Italy and things Italian. It shouldn't come as an surprise to those who know me that one of my favourite places in Mosman is the Fourth Village Providore. It is my favourite for food shopping and having lunch. The place is positively decadent and its rather high prices make it exclusive. This is turn does not allow for getting bored with it. Once savours the place and much as its food. 

One feels hungry looking the food selection

                                        

One of my friends and my, at times, companion in The Fourth Village lunches  moved recently to Melbourne. I have been missing our occasional lunches but this Saturday my friend was in Sydney and we again had lunch in our favourite place.  It is nice go back to the familiar place that one likes. We both were happy to order the same as  we knew and liked from the past experience : Calamari Fritti Zucchini Fiammifero e Mayonese al Limoncello, pizza Capricciosa and two glasses of Sangiovese.  

How wonderfully Italian!

                                      

 In Australia one often shares dishes and we did. It was a lot of food, perhaps too much but I decided to enjoy it to fully experience the great company and food. I decided that it was rather nice and effective therapy.  Sangiovese is one of my favourite wines as well. It was blissful indulgence!

Lately, I have heard so much about superiority of Melbourne over Sydney that maybe it is time to see for myself what is so special about the place. Architecture and food are supposed to be Melbourne particular strength. I have not been to the Melbourne Art Gallery yet and galleries are always places to visit, so I will put it on my list to see. It is not likely I will make a trip in time for the Polish Food Festival, but early next year should be a right time to make the trip.

Musings on belonging

 We all need to belong. The first link we experience is belonging to our family. While this may be problematic at times and not always a happy dependency, nevertheless our family is our first tribe. The subject of belonging came to my mind whith the book I am reading – The Art of Belonging by Hugh Mackay an Australian social researcher and an author of many books with a psychological slant. The second trigger was a recent post on Personal Reflections concerning internet community, the author refers to as an internet village. Nice label, I like it.

Belonging is obviously important to all of us and I have been reflecting on it for quite some time.  Hugh Mackay subtitled his book – It’s not important where you live, it’s how you live. It  indicates to me that we have at least some influence on belonging or not belonging to a tribe. When I was a small girl, I did not have any siblings and my mother kept away from me children who did not behave up to her standards. As the result I did not have mates to play with exception for the times with my grandparents. The frequent time in solitude made me an avid reader rather early, my friendships were imaginary ones.  I developed a bad habit of being somewhat reserved and a loner until later on when I went to school. I must have been rather popular then as I found some pictures from my school years showing me being engaged in school group activities like folk dancing. I even performed in the school play at my grammar school times. It was not all that bad with me after all, I am glad to realise.

I belonged to this group of young people for four years - my high school class. I still remember some names. 

Personal Reflections praise the value of internet belonging telling the readers that at times blogging may lead to a friendship. Jim Belshaw calls the group of regular readers who exchange blog comments on mutually interesting subjects – his village. I find the concept very attractive and I like to visit the Jim's village. With familiarity of covered subjects and personalities of the regular readers, one develops a nice feeling of understanding the village and even belonging.   I can see that such blogs may lead to “real” friendships.

If one wants to be philosophical and complicate the issue a bit one could ask what makes a friendship or belonging to a group of people with common interests “real”. Is it that they meet in person at some stage? Or is it that they are genuine in expressing their views? What makes such belonging real?

Hugh Mackay in the chapter Online Communities sees some advantages of online friendships and believes that they may lead to having a comfortable feeling of belonging. He is critical of mobiles used as a “life line” that takes priority over life situations, even intimate ones. I agree with this view but I have not found  in the book convincingly strong arguments against internet communities like blogging or FaceBook friends. They obviously have their merits. I have formed friendships via internet, participatd in activities of support groups and studied online. For me internet plays an important role in my “real” life. If I ask myself a question – is this enough to stop at internet friendships, communities and villages forgetting about physical contact with people, the answer is of course NO. I would miss smiles, tone of voice, touch... 

We know about verbal and nonverbal messages and the rule 7%-38%-55%. It has been taught in public speaking courses for many years. Only 7% of the message we send when speaking is verbal. 38% - is tone of voice and 55% - body language. Sure we could use video. Still, this would not be  enough for a full message.

Considering these points I could not live without internet and my internet friendships but they cannot replace my “real” friendships and “real” belonging.