In 2017, I was dreaming of Scotland. I was living in my home town of Canberra with my partner and our cat, working a job I found fulfilling but was also growing tired of and, like many twentysomethings, wondering if “this” was … it?
Staring down the barrel of the rest of our lives, working full-time office jobs and punctuating the week with a few dinners out or the odd weekend away, we felt as though we were in a rut. So we embarked on a great Australian tradition: picking up sticks and flying to the UK.
We chose Edinburgh because we had friends there and, in population and size, it wasn’t that different to Canberra. We were so certain we would stay for several years (at least), that we even paid for our cat, Bella, to make the journey with us. After enduring the 22 hours of flying, I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive us.
From the moment we arrived, I loved Edinburgh. I loved the history of the old town, the majestic rise of Arthur’s Seat – visible from our lounge room window – and the way the air smelled damp and green, so different from Australia.
I quickly found fulfilling work and wonderful friends. We travelled the countryside and explored castle ruins on weekends. It was exactly what we had been looking for.
And yet …
Sudden flashes of Canberra entered my thoughts regularly. I’d be on the bus, and the streets of Dickson I’d lived in as a student would burst into my memory. I’d be walking in the Pentlands and find my heart yearning for the trail on Black Mountain I used to run, where rock-wallabies would peek out from the bush and butterflies would eddy up the path, disturbed by our footsteps.
I started keeping a list in my phone that turned into a strange sort of poem – Things I miss about Australia. But, as the list grew, it became obvious that it wasn’t just Australia I was missing – it was Canberra.
Growing up in a city that the rest of the country reviles is hard to explain to non-Canberrans. We’re so used to the media labelling our town as boring, stuffy or using it as a synonym for decisions made by politicians. Justifying why we live here is part of being Canberran.
Choosing to stay in Canberra when you grew up here or, even more drastically, choosing to return to Canberra from overseas, baffles outsiders even more.
After finishing university, the majority of our friends left immediately for Sydney, Melbourne or overseas. We have felt the pressure to leave ever since. Why would we stay? What was there in Canberra of all places that was worth forgoing the excitement of a bigger city?
Staying in Canberra was seen as settling, choosing an easy way out. And that’s perhaps the biggest criticism of life in Canberra: it’s too easy. There is a convenience and quietness to living here that those who leave perceive as antithetical to an exciting or well-lived life.
But for me quietness has never meant a lack of activity and excitement. In Edinburgh, trying to work our way into a new city, my partner and I reflected on how much community we had back in Canberra. He’s a musician and I’m a writer, and we had a large group of artist friends who collaborated together. We both worked for festivals, ran shows at local venues, and were always busy with some new artistic venture.
We each had hobbies that required open space and nature – he’s a long distance runner and I ride horses. Canberra allowed both of us to enjoy our pastimes within half an hour’s drive from our inner-urban apartment.
And there is a beauty to Canberra that is hard to beat. While I was in Scotland a friend of mine started taking nature photography of Canberra and I eagerly checked her Instagram every day to see beautiful misty mornings shot from mountaintops, or over the lake, highlighting how the city’s urban planning integrates so well with the natural environment.
After a year in Scotland, we knew in our bones that we wanted to go back to Canberra.
Originally we had discussed moving straight to Melbourne – if we returned to Australia at all. We’d planned to continue the adventure others expected of us.
But, when the time came, it was obvious that nowhere but Canberra would do.
I still remember landing at Canberra airport and seeing Mount Ainslie rising up ahead as we took a taxi home. I wound down the window so I could smell that crisp eucalypt and let the familiarity of home settle on to my skin.
It’s been six years and I don’t see myself wanting to live anywhere else anytime soon. More importantly, the justifications have stopped. I no longer feel the need to convince people I made the right decision by staying … Sometimes, you just know. And what other people don’t understand can’t take away from the joy of being home.
