Tuesday 12 August 2014

The Long Goodbye

As I was packing up my life and preparing to leave, there were a few things I honestly didn't take into account.  First of all, I was downright foolish to assume I could pack up an apartment that two people had lived in for five years all by myself in just a few weeks.  Stupid.  Looking around, I couldn't see too much stuff - we lived in an old apartment which we loved for its character and quirks, but it had zero built-in storage, so we had learned to be efficient and minimal in our space. The thing I wasn't considering was this: when you move house, it's okay to end up throwing different things into boxes together, because it will all come out at the same place at the other end.  In this case, I wasn't taking much with me, just clothes, and everything else was being sold, given away, and essentially distributed to various places.  Everything had to carefully packed together, in appropriate groupings, so that things didn't get messed up and end up in the wrong place, or worse, end up still on my floor on leaving day.

I was also disappointed with various charitable organisations in my area who basically turned me away when I took bags of clothes, linen and basic household things to donate.  (I'm looking at you Lifeline, St Vinnies, and Salvos).  The smaller places I can understand - they have one or two (usually elderly) volunteers who have to sort through everything and sell it, but those larger ones have a clear mission to provide things to the needy in the community.  If they aren't selling stock as quickly as they'd like, they should be giving it away to help those needy people.  When I suggested this to one guy, he pretty much threw me out of the store.  Faith in church-based charities: destroyed.  

However, by the time leaving day came around, things weren't too bad.  I'd bullied some friends into taking some of my favourite things, because I couldn't quite bear to give them or throw them away, and put a few things out on the street for entrepreneurial locals to pick up and sell on or use, and left a few things for my neighbours and for the people moving into my apartment.  I threw some cash at my godsend of a cleaning lady, knowing she could finish things up much better than me.  

The other big thing I didn't really take into account sufficiently was the number of 'farewell do's' I'd have to attend.  Don't get me wrong, I love my friends and was very happy to see them all, but I organised a picnic for a reason - to get through as much of the goodbye process as I could in one go.  That was the plan, but it wasn't enough for most people.  So for the last three weeks or so, I had a lunch and dinner with people every day.  For some reason this needed to include people I hadn't seen in several years, who suddenly, upon hearing I was leaving, insisted "oh! we have to catch up before you go!"  Ummm... really?  Do we have to?  Because we haven't actually done that in years.  Anyway, I guess when you are leaving the country for the foreseeable future, people suddenly get nostalgic.  It was lovely, of course, to see them, but it did take away from the extra time I got to spend with people I will very genuinely miss, so that was unfortunate.  

Anyway, in this wonderful world of modern technology, friends are only a skype call away, and once we get through the first few confusing "oh, is it 3am over there? sorry!" moments, it will all be good.  

Some of my favourite moments before leaving included: 
  • getting completely, messily drunk with a couple of friends and then slicing a piece of my thumb off when I decided I absolutely had to make quesadillas for us... I will have that scar forever, guys.  
  • having a roaring fight with two dear friends when, despite having known each other for about 15 years, we discovered we are diametrically opposed on one key social issue, and then still being able to kiss each other goodbye and say we love each other, and know that we'll always be friends anyway.
  • a beautiful friend getting a few people together and cooking me a huge meal consisting of about 12 different styles of potato. Oh my goodness. Only the truest friends will know your favourite foods, and not only not judge you, but encourage you..  
  • getting messages from friends in the States who were excited that I was moving over there and were counting down the days - this really took the sting out of leaving my Brisbane friends behind.
  • having a final play in the park with one of my dearest friends and her kids. Her youngest, George, who looks like your average adorable toddler but is actually a demon comprising equal parts wickedness, humour and charm, threw a huge tantrum (complete with some impressive foot-stomping and shouting) when it was time to leave the park.  He quickly recovered and launched into some creative name-calling as everyone piled into the car. As he had just done a quick wee behind a tree before getting in the car, and hadn't put his pants back on, he glanced down, and with a gleeful expression shouted out "bye bottom and penis!"  Obviously as a mature adult, I giggled hysterically and just had time to call out "bye poopoo head!" before the car pulled off.  

So yes, goodbye all you poopoo heads, I'll miss Brisbane and my friends. I'll miss my cats, my apartment, my view, my favourite things, my local cafe, my local bar, the river, the art gallery, my car, all the green spaces near my home, and so many other things.  But I'm in New Orleans now, and I'll have so many other things to fall in love with, and then I'll just have to bully my friends until they come and visit me and share them with me.  

Brisbane chapter is officially over.  New chapter commences.... now. 

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