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As I took my seat on the Korean flight 987, a sudden flash of horror crossed my mind. Would this be the last I see of my beloved Vladivostok? What a way to go! Definitely not the fairytale end to the "Russian Expedition".
My Mother keeps insisting that I was deported and looking back on it now that wasn't far from the truth. I had left so much behind, so much I still wanted to do, to achieve, friends, colleagues, family and my wife. One day there, the next gone! It was a horrendous way to go out. No presents for the family, half finished jobs at work and a suitcase full of dirty laundry. The "evacuation" took less than 12 hours and left me feeling completely guttered, heart broken, detached and giddy with no control over my life. Why does immigration have to be so complicated, especially when it's your family being ripped apart? So much uncertainty, so many unanswered and unanswerable questions. At the bottom of all this chaos there was my wife, Nastya, bravely waving goodbye, wondering if we would overcome the next juggernaut- A new working visa.
Somewhere in the skies over the Sea of Japan I passed out, helpless, exhausted and completely baffled.
How had the last year effected me? The answers continue to hit me everyday. Even as I sit here today, five days back in Brisbane, a certain profound objectivity surrounds all I see and do. Balance! Life now can be compared. It can be pulled apart and looked at through completely different eyes. Balance in you as a person. The messages is clear, I have changed but to what extent is still unclear and continually evolving everyday. Reflection, waters this strange but enlightening time in my life.
Australia, what does it mean to you? During my time in Vladivostok, the Russians were very curious as to what it meant to be Australian. Why did we still have the Queen on our money? Why weren't we a republic? Were all other Australians, sports mad adventures like myself? Stereotypically, the Russians look at Australia as a strange land, full of deadly animals, clean water and high living standards, but that is as far as it goes.
Personally, I hadn't heard a peep of any news from back home except for one of the Russian bank advertisements, gloating on the fact that they had more members then the entire population of Oz. Oh yeah, also, a couple of weeks before leaving, Australia was named as the fattest nation on earth, but that was all the news I had heard.
Had much changed? Had I changed? Questions still very much up in the air. Over the last year I had run into only one other Aussie, so I was chomping at the bit to reanalyze my own kind. It didn't take long as I hauled my luggage to gate 21, Seoul , Flight 123 heading for Brisbane. There they were, Australians in all there 'ocker' glory. The first thing I noticed was how friendly everyone was, or so they appeared to be. My Russification had taught me to beware the superficial western smirk, for contempt may lie beneath. However this negativity was soon abandoned as one bloke asked me, "How ya going mate? "Where have ya been?"
It was refreshing to say the least, a certain childish naivety the Brits and Americans don't possess but pleasant nevertheless. People were actually smiling at one another for no particular reason, odd, but strangely familiar.
These were my compatriots, happy-go-lucky, exuberantly friendly and dressed atrociously! What happened to the glamour, the stilettos and the impeccable ladies hair dos? Well, it had been replaced with joggers, tracky dacks and bad travel hair. I hate to sound sexist, but I'm just calling it as I saw it that day. The blokes were generally better groomed that the women. Styled metro sexual hair with shaved shinny legs, they left the women for dead with their birds nest, bed head hair and baggy prison style track pants. A clear case where comfort should never override style. I was left flabbergasted and a little disappointed at the average Aussies civilian wardrobe.