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MARCH’09

A couple of months ago I was hit with the itch. You can

stop chuckling, I’m talking about the homesick itch. The I-cannot-stand-one-more-grain-of-sand-on-my-shoes kinda frustration that takes a hold of you and has you pining away for the simplicity of Aussie life. As a relatively new edition to the Dubai expat shelf, I was wondering why I was getting the feeling after only seven months as a resident in the sandpit. I felt like a kid at the beach without a

bucket and shovel. Yes, it’d been ten years since I had lived overseas and Sydney had become my home, ‘but seven months?!’, I thought… a foetus can handle two more than that inside the human body!

It wasn’t that I hated to be in Dubai, but I was beginning to crave the things I missed most. I was kicking myself at how nostalgic I was becoming – daydreaming of the unbeatable beaches, trees, footpaths (mmhmm), meat pies, Twisties, Fruit Tingles and Cherry Ripes. And I was finding myself growing more attached to the Sydney Morning Herald website than ever. You know you’ve got it bad when you get a kick out of how miserable the weather is in back in Australia and the only news you read is that of a country you don’t live in. ‘Bah, if I can’t be there when it’s sunny and 28 degrees, then by all means, let it rain down on those suckers with a vengeance.’

Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t earned my wings as a Dubai local, yet I was no longer true blue either. Was I stuck in some sort of cultural chasm? Or maybe it was the blatantly obvious – the Australian summer was approaching. I could hear the roar of the waves and clink of bottles over thousands of miles away. Luckily enough, I was due back in Sydney for a friend’s wedding and was amping myself up for being back there in all my Aussie glory.

So I went, I saw, I kicked some ass! Well not really. That was the Ghostbusters. But after spending three weeks in Sydney, it’s safe enough to say, I got my fix. I did things only a tourist would; I ate a meat pie on Balmoral Beach; strutted Bondi in only a bikini and spent Australia Day within arm’s reach of a BBQ, beers, my best buds and the beach. (The highlight of this get together, the coffin a mate had built and fitted out as an eski for the day, “Rest In P**s” it was appropriately labelled). I even took the Manly ferry to the city, something I wouldn’t dream about doing whilst living in Sydney. All of these things reassured something in me – that they would always be there when I returned.

Well ‘tie me kangaroo down, sport!’, it seemed all I needed was a quick Oz indulgence to reaffirm the reasons that I had come to Dubai – opportunity and experience. As the third week of my holiday ensued I found myself longing for the Middle East and couldn’t wait to be welcomed home (that’s right, I said ‘home’) by the flock of dishdashas at the immigration hall in the Dubai airport. And just in case I hadn’t consumed my fair share of Aussie treats, I collected a small stash to tide me over until next time. The only thing I couldn’t bring back was a meat pie. But that’s no skin off my nose, because for now, home is where the shawarma is.

Enjoying the finer things in life at Balmoral Beach, Sydney.

What’s life really like? With Jenny Hewett.

Expat Brat