How’s the serenity? Leaving London for Oz

LIVING in London has turned me into an excitable mix of a Darryl Kerrigan from The Castle, and a Japanese tourist.

The full extent of this transformation became clear when my plane from London arrived at Melbourne Airport.

As we descended towards the runway I felt like a Japanese tourist who had never seen wide open, empty space before.

I was fascinated, mesmerised even, by the beauty of the flat, grassy paddocks that lined the runway.

I felt compelled to get off the plane and race over to the green and brown plains.

I wanted to roll around in the lush, green grass like I did as a child.

I was overwhelmed by a desire to take my shoes off and feel the cool, soft greenery beneath my feet.

The fasten seatbelt sign, which was still lit, fortunately brought me out of my slightly manic, 24-hour flight-induced state, so I could exit the plane like a normal person.

But while the urge to make snow angels in the grass subsided, not even the queues at immigration, baggage collection and customs could wipe the happy-as-a-pig-in-mud smile from my face.

A week has passed and now I feel more like Darryl Kerrigan from The Castle.

For the first time ever, I am embracing the peace and quiet of Albury-Wodonga, the self-proclaimed “regional city” on the NSW-Victorian border where my family lives.

Each morning I jump out of bed, fling open the curtains and the window and think to myself, ‘how’s the serenity?’

Waking up to the smell of gum trees and freshly mowed grass and the sound of kookaburras is truly refreshing, and a far cry from the sirens, planes, buses and pollution that I woke up to in London for the best part of two years.

It must be pretty clear by now that I am still in my just-returned-home bubble. And I know that bubble will soon burst.

It’s only a matter of time before I’ll miss London and its hectic lifestyle, and be longing for a new adventure.

But for now I am embracing my newly discovered country loving ways.

Because seeing the beauty of Australia through the eyes of a tourist is just one of the many lessons I’ve learnt from spending time away.