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. 

The Biggest Day

Considering how much depends on this one small event, I thought I'd dedicate a post to the Visa Interview. Of course, the interview is simply the culmination of lots of preparation and research and work, but for all the stress and anxiety it causes, it may as well be the main event.

Any post you read about your visa interview will provide the same core advice - Be Prepared.  I was lucky in this regard because my American employer utilised an immigration lawyer to prepare their end of the application, which not only expedited the process significantly, but also took care of a very big part of MY end of the application. My particular visa classification, E3 for Australians working in a specialty occupation, is a great option, but both the candidate and the employer, or rather the role itself, need to fulfil very specific criteria. The Visa Coach provides great information about several visa classifications, including E3, and I found this site very useful.

Getting my job offer was just the first step, really. A big step, sure, but just the first. From there, your employer needs to file their application with the right department, and you need to make sure you've given them all the information, and that nothing gets left out.... it's all very painful, actually. The most important thing you can do, if you are applying for a work visa, is make sure you know the process. Read everything you can find on the topic, not just the Consultant webpage (though this should be your first stop). Understand the realistic timeframes and anticipate where problems are likely to occur.

From what I had read, once my employer had received their Labor Condition Application (a key part of the whole process), the hardest part had been done, but I still needed to do my part. I wasn't all that worried about my eligibility: I have a PhD in the relevant field, I have the necessary experience, no criminal history or anything like that.  The area that gave me a bit of concern was being able to 'prove' that I intended to come back to Australia after my visa was expired.  I'm sure that visa timeframe violations are a big problem all over the world, but this one seems a bit odd. I'm not fleeing a warzone or a dangerous area (although Abbott as PM could be considered a disaster of some kind), and I have a lifetime of connections in Australia. But this is hard to prove on paper... I don't own property (thanks Baby Boomers, or someone, who are we blaming for ridiculously high property prices these days??), so I couldn't simply say "hey, I've got real investments here".  Instead I put together copies of my Superannuation statements, bank statements, copies of my parents' and siblings' drivers licences and proof of address, in an attempt to prove some kind of compelling reason to come back.  I do have natural concerns about my parents getting older, and not wanting to be too far away, but in all honesty, the world is a pretty small place these days, and it doesn't take long to get back if I really needed to.  Regardless, I put together my 'reasons for coming back' pack, along with all my qualifications, letters of recommendation (from two US Senators, no less), and various documents sent to me by the immigration lawyer in New Orleans.  With over 100 pages of documentation at the ready, I felt totally, completely prepared. Now, where had I put my passport again? Oh right.

So obviously, when I actually had my interview (for which I had to get a 7am flight to Sydney, ugh), the whole interview took about 2 minutes, and the consulate officer didn't even glance at my supportive documentation. I offered to show him my well-prepared statements and letters, but he just smiled amiably and said "congratulations, your visa is granted. Your passport will be sent back to you within a week or so." Honestly, I was completely thrilled but also somehow disappointed.  All that work, and he didn't even look at it??  In hindsight, knowing that 99% of interviews would go the same way, would I still go to all that effort, even though it would be unnecessary?  Absolutely. There would be nothing worse than being asked something that I could answer, and having to go through the process again. Each setback like that causes more delays.  That old saying "a stitch in time saves nine" comes to mind, except obviously it's more than a stitch - it's more like a dozen stitches, but the point remains. Preparation is key.

So as I headed back to the airport, I quietly congratulated myself on a job well done, sent a quick email to the immigration lawyer promising him a drink when I arrived in New Orleans, and started advertising the good news. Having that visa somehow made the whole thing real, and I was suddenly looking at a big sea change. Well, New Orleans has a river... and a lake... Okay, so it's a water change of some kind. Point is, it suddenly became real that day, a week ago, 9th July 2014. America, here I come.

Is it too early for a glass of wine?

Shall I begin like David Copperfield?

I remember someone saying to me, when I was barely eighteen years old (many many years ago): "Dan, life is complicated, but you have to focus on three main things: love, health, and work. Even if you're doing well in 2 out of 3, you're doing okay."  Sure, I thought. That can't be too hard?

So nearly a year ago, I found myself in a very strange point in my life.  I was rather unexpectedly single, after a mostly happy 9 year relationship; my appendix, which had been hiding behind my small intestine and been causing all sorts of problems, decided to finally rupture and send me to hospital for a week; and I was actively hating my job.  Well no, that last part is not quite right.  I loved my job. I hated how I was being made to do it, or rather, how I was being prevented from doing it properly.  My immediate colleagues are some of the best people I've ever had the pleasure of working with, but we had been learning a stark lesson in being forced to bend to the whims of those in power, even when they are ignorant, egocentric toolbags who have no concept of what you actually do, and zero interest in learning anything about it.

I really started to wonder what the hell was going on.  This was not the first time I'd had a rough time at work. I'd left my previous job a few years earlier because my direct manager was a lovely guy, but a really disastrous manager, with a pesky streak of paranoia to go with it. It was a timely move, and led to a great new team, with a great boss who actually mentored and led, instead of bullying and undermining. Unfortunately, in very large organisations, small teams are prey to the larger structures, and we were demolished after a change in executive leadership.  Prior to these two most recent roles, I'd only ever really left jobs when I was leaving the country, or when funding ran out for my project, or when I got bored and wanted to move on.

Maybe I'd just been lucky all those previous years?  Maybe this was the reality, and all good workers are doomed to have their souls sucked out by nefarious managers and directors who presumably live on the blood of newborns and make Faustian pacts on a daily basis?  And if that's how it had to be, then okay, I could roll with the punches, and go with it, because I had a great home life with a loving partner, and I was in pretty decent health for a lazy guy in his middish 30s.

So I guess when some minor but ongoing troubles at home came to a head, resulting in an unexpected break-up, and then my appendix finally burst and left me with an infection so nasty that my surgeon said "oh well, yes, we were actually quite worried about you", I guess I started to wonder whether there was something bigger going on. Maybe, in fact, the universe just hated me and enjoyed watching me suffer.  Maybe I was paying for sins in a past life.  I tried to look for answers. Was Mercury in retrograde or something? How long does that even go on for?  Is this a particularly bad Chinese astrological year?  All signs were pointing to yes.
My point is, I was having a rough time, and I was in pretty uncharted waters.

Like a burst of sunlight through a stormy sky, I was contacted by some people I knew in New Orleans, suggesting I apply for a job that was currently recruiting in an organisation that they were involved with.  This wasn't the first time we'd discussed this. I'd loved the time I'd spent in New Orleans (several months doing fieldwork for my PhD, and a few subsequent, much shorter visits), but the timing, the role, the visa situation... it had never been quite right.  So after this most recent chat, I sat back and really had to think.  I usually do this with a giant glass of wine, and this time was no exception. I thought about all the possible directions my life could take from this strange point forward. I thought about all the good things I still had going on here in Brisbane: a flat I love, with views to die for; some truly wonderful friends, some of whom have children who I really enjoy watching grow up; family; two beautiful kitties; comfort and familiarity, and so on. Giving all that up, even for a while, would be tough.  I had moved overseas before, but it seemed much simpler when I was 20...  So sure, I could stay here, find another job, try dating again (which is a scary concept when you haven't done it for a decade and were never very good at it in the first place!) and carry on with life here. No problem.  Or... I could be proactive, be courageous, and push myself out of my comfort zone. I mean, my comfort zone was really pretty miserable these days, so why was I hanging out here?

So, I went for it.  I got the job, I got the visa, and now I'm counting down until I blow this joint and move to New Orleans!

If you're still with me, you'll have noticed that I tend to ramble - sorry.  It's part of my charm. I usually get to the point eventually. And here it is:  I guess started this blog so I could narrate this journey, document the shifts in my life as I move, and when I get there.  It's likely of no interest to anyone but my friends and family (possibly not even them), but I'm already having fun.  That could partly be because I've been in bed with a really rotten cold for the last three days, and this is the first day I've been able to sit up long enough to type this much! Also, my dad sweet talked the pharmacist into giving me the good stuff, and I can actually breathe. Amazing.

So anyway. I guess this is the context post.  I intend to get into job stuff, visa process, selling and packing my life, etc, unless more interesting things appear along the way.  We'll see.  If you're a friend or a stranger, feel free to drop a comment about anything that takes your fancy.
Time to celebrate this first post with a glass of medicinal wine.