Last night as I lay in bed, I found myself asking, what on earth am I doing here? If I didn’t feel quite at home in the States, how much less so do I feel here? I was feeling some anxiety for what today held – I’m currently on a train headed away from my family and on to Sydney. Since I’ve been in Australia, I don’t think my culture shock has felt too great. Things are different, certainly, but I’ve been with family. This next step is where I think I’ll feel the differences the most. When I’m out meeting people, navigating the big city. What set off my questioning of this big decision was actually something so, so small. I was thinking about how I should get a different charger for my phone. I have a great USB cable I’d like to keep, so all I need to find is the bit that goes into the socket. If I were in the United States, I would just run to Target to try to find a cheap one. I would likely find it easily, but if that didn’t work I could always go to Walmart or Best Buy. These are things I know intuitively from years of living in a country with Target, Walmart, and Best Buy (though Australia has Target too – they’re just a bit different and probably wouldn’t carry phone chargers). I don’t know where the first place I should look for such things are here. I could easily find out by looking online or phoning a relative, but I was jarred by not knowing such a simple thing. What was I thinking? What am I doing here?

But then I thought over what I had done that day. Before trucking off to Sydney, my uncle took me and his son to the area where my family used to live. Murrundah and Narrandera. The farmland in this part of New South Wales is vast. We drove past 50,000 acres owned by one farmer and visited the woman who lived on the neighboring farm to Turriff, my Granddad’s farm that became my uncle’s when he passed. We spotted emus on the way, running along with their floppy, feathery tails that somehow reminded me of ladies’ bustles.

I thought I would recognize Turriff to some degree when I saw it, but I didn’t really. As I said to Craig, the world when you’re six is very different from the world when you’re grown. I remember the living things in Turriff – the kittens, the galahs, my Granddad, and a younger Craig. Nevertheless, I enjoyed seeing where my dad had lived for a while, and even more so, I enjoyed a little surprise when we turned into the town of Murrundah. It’s one of those towns that likely has the minimum amount of what is needed to constitute a town. I think it only had three streets. But one of those streets was called Milvain Dr. – named after my Granddad a few years after he passed away. There’s a street named after my ancestor in Murrundah, NSW, Australia.

Following our visit there, we went looking for koalas in Narrandera and found an adorable one less than a hundred meters from where we had parked.

We went on to Yanco Agricultural School, the boarding school where my dad, his brothers, and my granddad attended. It was fun seeing where so much happened in my father’s and uncles’ lives. After Yanco, we returned to Narrandera and visited my granddad and Uncle Warren’s graves. Last time I was in Australia it was to visit my granddad in the hospital, so I had never visited his grave. I wish I could have seen him to speak to, but I’m glad that I was able to see where he is buried. I’ll cherish the sight of my uncle sitting at Granddad’s graveside with his five year-old son in his lap. Little Lucas cuddled in close, comforting his dad in the most calm state I’d ever seen him in during waking hours. That’s a large part of what I’m doing here. Part of my history is here, my family. I’m looking to discover parts of myself that have gone thus far undiscovered.

I’ve been incredibly blessed to be welcomed in so well to my aunt and uncle’s little nuclear family. The kids and I grew close (perhaps too close, as Lucas won’t listen to anything I tell him to do anymore, and Scarlett has grown quite demanding in true toddler fashion). On the way back from Narrandera, as Lucas snoozed in the back seat, I told Craig how wonderful it was to get to know these kids so well. You begin to look at the kid and no longer see just who they are, but all that they could one day be. Lucas has a brilliant mind that designs and builds space ships out of legos that I couldn’t dream of building myself, even now. Scarlett wants to nurture everyone around her and communicates her thoughts and feelings so well for a two year-old. There are so many things they could do as they grow up – though Lucas declared yesterday that no one in the family is allowed to leave this planet… so… I guess astronaut is off the table for Scarlett. My aunt Nicole has taken the kids and me on day trips in the region around the farm – wineries and beautiful towns galore. One such town, which Craig joined us for, was Eldorado.

All this time in the Americas, and Eldorado was actually to be found in Australia all along. As you might have guessed, this had once been a big gold mining town. Lucas was excited to show me the historic dredge there – an absolutely massive machine that used to travel the river, finding gold a century ago. As we drove there and back, I contemplated my own journey here. In a way, I feel like I’m searching for my own El Dorado. That pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. That indescribable, intangible something. I’m on a journey of discovery that I hope will lead to something great. The thing about El Dorado, though, is that it’s a fiction. This mythical empire of gold was just that – a myth, created by the Spanish Empire over time. But in the search for this city of gold, the Spanish mapped out quite a lot of land. I won’t delve too deep into what all of that might have entailed, as the Spanish weren’t known for being overly-kind to indigenous people groups. But what if this search for my own El Dorado leads me to discovering things I never would have known existed in myself, in this beautiful world I live in, and in the people around me. What if the gold of El Dorado is less so about the destination and more about what I find along the way?

It’s been ten days since writing the beginning of this post. I meant to write so much more frequently, but life gets in the way, doesn’t it? I’ve been in Penrith, a Western suburb of Sydney for just over a week now. I explored Sydney Harbour like a proper tourist one day, and of course, I loved it. Even went to the beach!

Other than that day of touring and a Sunday checking out Hillsong and attending their Christmas Spectacular (“spectacular” is right, let me tell you), I’ve spent my days in Penrith applying for jobs. At one point I became rather fraught with frustration, not knowing how I could possibly find a job. Luckily, the intense anxiety passed, and the job search carries on. I am feeling a bit isolated, not really knowing anyone yet, but it makes me all the more grateful for my family and the friends I have in the States. I can’t wait for the holidays where I can be with family again, but at least I have some cute dogs and cats to keep me company in the meantime.