GOOD AS GOLD

Moving the whole family to a new location is never easy. It involves a lot of stress from organizing accomodation, car, shipping the household goods you don't want to part with and parting with a lot of things you can't take with you. It also involves a lot of money (which increases the stress part), but that's a different story.

So we moved from Chicago to the Gold Coast Australia. Another country, another continent. Few friends have since asked me WHY THERE? And this is my attempt to answer that question.

Back in 1989 when I first came to Australia with my Australian wife, we arrived in Melbourne, stayed with her mother for a month or so there, then went to meet her father who lived on a farm few hours inland. Melbourne made a good impression on me, it is a huge city, a bit European in many ways with many nationalities cultivating their culture, but after Hawaii it was simply too cold. And so was the farm, being also exactly the opposite of everything we were used to so far. We bought a used, rusty Ford Falcon station wagon, loaded it and headed North.

Sydney. Much nicer weather, beautiful harbour and endless suburban sprawls with segregated nationalities that didn't seem very welcoming, sorry. Not far from Sydney we stayed in Newcastle to meet another part of the family. I could almost see myself there, the town was the 'right' size, weather was fine, beaches close, but the heart just wasn't there.

We drove further North, another 800 kms or so till we hit the Gold Coast... Well, here it was like the love of first sight! A stretch of modern beach towns for over 30 kms with just about everything you could ask for, except snow perhaps. For me crossing the Southport bridge, seeing the beautiful marina on the right (and I always had a thing for boats), canals everywhere, mountains on the left - did the trick.

I guess not many people have the luxury to choose a place to live like that and I feel very fortunate in this respect, although we were then very poor. Piss poor, as they used to say here. Our rusty Falcon just barely made the trip and for the first few months (yes...) we slept in a tent in a caravan park in Kirra. I am even a bit hesitant to write about it, because some things still hurt after all these years. One thing was sure then: there was no plan B.
I guess the emotions you go through tie you to a place, well... we sure got tied up alright.

Anyway. In choosing the place to live we were not looking for employment opportunities, but rather the living environment 'in toto'.
At the risk of sounding arrogant: do you know how much do the elephants eat every day to maintain their huge bodies? A lot. An arrangement is made for them to find sufficient food which seems very difficult from our point of view. I'm not saying we shouldn't worry about our jobs, but simply making an observation that an arrangement is made for us to have sufficient food and shelter, always.

On the Gold Coast jobs exist because many people from around the world want to come here either on holidays or permanently. Before we left for US 5 years ago, 1000 people were relocating here a week! Sure, not all stayed, but the numbers are huge.

So there, in a nutshell.
And this time around we simply went back to our old stomping ground, good as gold, mate, good as gold.
By the way, there's another place 200 kms North from here, Sunshine Coast. If Gold Coast were my wife, Sunshine Coast wold be the mistress...

T34 - 217

When you approach Wroclaw in Poland from the South (as the Russian Army did exactly 65 years ago) you will see 2 tanks on pedestals guarding a cemetery on the right side of the road. They are the famous Russian made T34 tanks that some say, won the war. They outclassed all other tanks made during WWII being relatively light, fast, maneuverable and most of all, simple to make. Like all tanks they were also vulnerable, especially in the city.

This particular one, with the number 217 on the turret came all the way from Kursk, fought many battles and made the gunner, sgt Niczajew famous. He was the only crew member who survived up to this point.

As the tank was engaged in heavy fighting along Gajowicka Str, it was hit by an anti-tank missile and immobilised forever. Sgt Niczajew died. It happened right in front of a church that survived the war unlike most of the buildings within 1 mile radius from it. The old greystone church still shows all the bullet holes and chips from shrapnel on its surface.

I walked by this church almost every day on the way to school, was baptised in it and took first communion there. As a kid, never really thought about what had happened in that city in 1945 till many years later. I guess at some point I had to relive that most dramatic time in history after seeing its evidence everywhere.

Sgt Niczajew... I know from published letters to your families that you guys used to think about the people who would live in Wroclaw after the war. I am one of them and, standing in front of your tank, I salute you all.

Someone once said that when a soul, who is by nature immortal and full of bliss enters a body (sort of like a man in a tank), an incompatible situation arises. Or you're kidding yourself...

I hope you know what I mean.