Last Wednesday, Tim left us for a trip to the US to spend time with a friend.
No worries. Except Jonathan didn't have school on Thursday, due to parent teacher conferences.
So I took him to my office on Thursday, logged him into the internet, and he watched youtube videos all morning, followed by decorating my whiteboards with mathematics in French while I attended meetings. (My French colleague came in afterwards and noted a few errors, but overall he was impressed.)
This city is well connected with public transportation, but my university is in a different suburb than Jonathan's school. It's not a problem to get from the city centre to the university, or to Jonathan's school, but they're on two prongs of a triangle. It takes much longer than it should to travel that third prong, between the university and the school, and the public transit apps I usually like always want me to take the one bus that comes just once an hour, always late. I hate that bus. I have to come up with creative ways to get the transit app to tell me how to get to the station nearby instead. I'll walk up the hill!
Anyway, after a morning in my office, Jonathan and I headed to his parent teacher conferences. And they were fine, and he's doing great. But it took forever to get there. Then home.
Friday was pouring rain, and Jonathan got stuck in traffic on the tram again. He tried to call me, but I was on the bus, on my own prong of travel, and I couldn't hear my phone. We got everything sorted out, finally, and we survived, but it was frustrating.
Monday Jonathan's year in school all left for a three day camp on the beach. I helped him get to school carrying his gear, and that was fine. And then I was home alone for three nights. I got a lot of work done. No complaints.
Until Wednesday when I had to pick Jonathan up from school at 3. I couldn't leave until after my office hours ended at 2. Well ok, I could leave a little before 2. I left, ran to the bus stop on time to catch the shuttle to the train. And the shuttle was late. And I missed the train. And so I missed the bus that comes once every 40 minutes. So I was going to be late. So I traveled instead all the way to the city centre, switched trains, and traveled all the way back along the Jonathan school prong. By 3:20 I was there, to find Jonathan sitting around waiting for me, bored. And because I was late we missed the train home, too.
So in all, picking Jonathan up took about an hour and a half, and then getting home took another 40 minutes. Google says it's a 16 minute drive between my work and his school, without traffic. There wouldn't have been much traffic before 3pm on a Wednesday.
It's all fine and good to go without a car when there is a parent in the city centre who can deal with trips to the school via train. But dealing with that third prong of the triangle when I'm home alone is not reasonable.
I'm getting a car.
Thursday, March 24, 2016
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Australian Grand Prix
Every year the Formula One race cars come to Melbourne and zoom around Albert Park, which is about a 15 minute walk from our house. They are loud -- a kind of constant whining noise during the races, and they bring along even louder things, like airshows featuring jet flyovers.
Tim, bless his heart, is away this weekend on a vacation with his high school friend.
So Jonathan and I walked the 15 minutes to the entry, paid the $85 for a general admission ticket, and sat around on the grass eating hot chips (French fries) and watching cars drive by. And airplanes!
It is fun to watch professional auto racing. When the formula one cars come, everyone stands up, and holds up their phones.
Here they are!
Vroom!
Vroom!
Take a picture!
Ack! I missed!
Vroom!
Take another picture!
Ack! I missed again!
Vroom!
Picture! Picture! Picture!
I got one! Do you see it there behind that lady's head?
Forget it. Try a movie!
And meanwhile:
Vroom!
Vroom!
Vroom!
I didn't know what was going on, besides the cars speeding by, but it was very noisy.
Other people seemed to be into it.
The uniform was a pair of jeans and a hoodie and a can of beer. So I'll know what to wear next time.
Vroom!
The biggest question, then, is: Does this count as attending a sporting event?
Tim, bless his heart, is away this weekend on a vacation with his high school friend.
So Jonathan and I walked the 15 minutes to the entry, paid the $85 for a general admission ticket, and sat around on the grass eating hot chips (French fries) and watching cars drive by. And airplanes!
It is fun to watch professional auto racing. When the formula one cars come, everyone stands up, and holds up their phones.
Here they are!
Vroom!
Vroom!
Take a picture!
Vroom!
Take another picture!
Ack! I missed again!
Vroom!
Picture! Picture! Picture!
Forget it. Try a movie!
And meanwhile:
Vroom!
Vroom!
Vroom!
I didn't know what was going on, besides the cars speeding by, but it was very noisy.
Other people seemed to be into it.
The uniform was a pair of jeans and a hoodie and a can of beer. So I'll know what to wear next time.
Vroom!
The biggest question, then, is: Does this count as attending a sporting event?
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Autumn
By decree, autumn starts here on the first day of March. So we have switched seasons while the rest of the world is still stuck.
When you know it is autumn, you realize that the world is starting to look a little autumnal. There are yellow leaves on some of the trees in the park.
The weather has continued to be warm -- actually a little hot. Apparently these temperatures in the high 20's (or high 80's F) are unusual for this time of year. Next week the temperature is predicted to reach the high 30's (low 100's F). So that doesn't feel very autumnal.
What does seem very much like autumn, however, is the start of all things school. Jonathan's school, of course, started a month ago, and he is now past midterms and looking ahead to the end of the first term near the end of this month. The semester finally started at my university last week as well. I've been teaching again for a week, and meeting with students, and organizing homework and syllabus and things like that. I like teaching. It's nice to be back.
But my morning commute has become much more painful. I take the train to the nearest station to the university, then catch a shuttle to campus. The shuttles run every four minutes. Monday morning, however, the crowd of people waiting for the shuttle ran all the way down the street. I watched four buses pass before it was my turn to climb aboard and stand, sandwiched between students, backpack pressed against my chest while I clutched the pole near the door, while the bus drove to campus. I am rethinking my commute very carefully. I think I will take the bike on the train much more frequently, whether or not I ride it all the way home afterwords. While it doesn't really shorten the commute time much, even with that four-bus wait, it does mean I don't have to wait. I just hop on my bike and get a little morning exercise for that 3.5 km ride.
I will leave you, finally, with one last picture of autumn: figs ripening on the giant Moreton Bay fig trees in the park! They are evergreen, so this is as autumnal as they get. The flying foxes seem to love this fruit. But I haven't stayed up late enough to watch them eat.
When you know it is autumn, you realize that the world is starting to look a little autumnal. There are yellow leaves on some of the trees in the park.
The weather has continued to be warm -- actually a little hot. Apparently these temperatures in the high 20's (or high 80's F) are unusual for this time of year. Next week the temperature is predicted to reach the high 30's (low 100's F). So that doesn't feel very autumnal.
What does seem very much like autumn, however, is the start of all things school. Jonathan's school, of course, started a month ago, and he is now past midterms and looking ahead to the end of the first term near the end of this month. The semester finally started at my university last week as well. I've been teaching again for a week, and meeting with students, and organizing homework and syllabus and things like that. I like teaching. It's nice to be back.
But my morning commute has become much more painful. I take the train to the nearest station to the university, then catch a shuttle to campus. The shuttles run every four minutes. Monday morning, however, the crowd of people waiting for the shuttle ran all the way down the street. I watched four buses pass before it was my turn to climb aboard and stand, sandwiched between students, backpack pressed against my chest while I clutched the pole near the door, while the bus drove to campus. I am rethinking my commute very carefully. I think I will take the bike on the train much more frequently, whether or not I ride it all the way home afterwords. While it doesn't really shorten the commute time much, even with that four-bus wait, it does mean I don't have to wait. I just hop on my bike and get a little morning exercise for that 3.5 km ride.
I will leave you, finally, with one last picture of autumn: figs ripening on the giant Moreton Bay fig trees in the park! They are evergreen, so this is as autumnal as they get. The flying foxes seem to love this fruit. But I haven't stayed up late enough to watch them eat.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Again??!!
The biggest problem with a migraine is that it will not work within your time frame. If I could plan for the visit of a migraine, I would pull out the calendar and circle a date that could work for both of us. But that has never happened.
Sunday night was the worst possible night for a migraine. The migraine medication would interfere with my sleep, and I really needed my sleep Sunday night. So when I started feeling the headache just before bed, I declared It Must Not Be, and I went to bed without the medicine.
Lying there, feeling very sleepy, I could meditate. Focusing on my brain very very carefully, I could make the pain dissipate as long as I could hold my focus. Long enough to fall asleep.
Turns out you cannot meditate in your sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke when a drill bored through the back of my right eyeball.
OK. I guess will-power was not enough. I got up, fumbled in the dark for the bottle, fumbled in the dark for some water, and finally swallowed the migraine pill, eyeball screaming in agony. Then I fumbled in the dark back to bed, and lay down, throbbing, waiting for the medicine to take effect.
My body very much wanted to be asleep, but the pain in my head would not allow it. I began dreaming of riding the train lines around Melbourne. But with every frequent stop someone pounded a screw driver into the back of my eye.
South Morang. BAM!
Epping. BAM!
Cragieburn. BAM!
Kooyong. BAM!
Tooronga. BAM!
Rolling over gently, I understood that I was going insane. I found it very discouraging that insanity hurt so much. I had expected it to be more freeing.
I had to wake myself up to meditate again, to tell my brain that in fact, there was nothing drilling into the back of my right eyeball. Nothing, brain!
Eventually the train lines gave way to the flickering light of thousands of strands of fiber optic cables, their tips dancing in red and purple behind my eyelids. In a moment of lucidity I realized that this is what life would probably be like when my brain had worn itself down into the late stages of old age. Full of vibrant color and pain.
And then I realized that I was going to throw up. And if I threw up, I would lose the pain medicine and I would be stuck all night with the screw in the eyeball. So I focused again on breathing.
Breathe slower!
And rolled over and focused again.
Even slower!
And slowly, slowly, the interminable night crawled along and the next thing I knew I was asleep, really sleeping, dreaming that I had to pee really badly. But no matter how many times I checked out the public facilities, nothing seemed to give me needed relief. Why did I still have to pee?!!
Oh. Because I was asleep.
That thought did it for me. I woke up, took myself off to the real bathroom, then crawled back into bed.
Checked the head.
Not too bad! Just a little residual throbbing.
Checked the stomach.
Not bad at all! Almost no nausea.
Stretched out a little, congratulating myself on a migraine finally averted.
Rolled over to go back to sleep. And my eyes popped open. And stayed there. Wide awake.
Why am I awake?
Oh yes. Caffeine in the migraine pills. That's why I felt no more pain and nausea. Because the blood vessels in my brain were all comfortably dilated once again! Blood humming through my thinker, causing all sorts of thinky thoughts. Think think think.
But not at this time in the morning, brain! Don't you understand that I need to sleep???!! That this is a Very Important night for sleeping?
I almost gave up and got up.
But then I decided that it was probably better for my body if I pretended to sleep. So I lay in bed, breathing, listening to the thinkiness in my head, wishing away that last little throb, and pretending I was asleep.
I pretended all the way through the crack-of-dawn call of the kookaburra, off on the other side of the park.
I pretended while I listened to the first train of the morning clackety clack far away by the river.
I pretended through the rattle of the earliest morning trams, early morning bell.
I pretended after the magpies began serenading the first traces of sunlight. And the noisy miners joined in. And the wattle birds.
And I stayed there and pretended all those hours until Tim's alarm went off, six-thirty a.m., and he stretched and smiled and asked, oh so innocently,
"How did you sleep, Love?"
I know what it will be like when I am old and insane and in pain and screaming in frustration at those poor dear nurses who are trying to get me up for the day. I pity them. I pity poor Tim.
Good morning, Monday.
Happy first day of the semester!
Happy first day of teaching, ever, in Australia!
You're going to be AWESOME!
Sunday night was the worst possible night for a migraine. The migraine medication would interfere with my sleep, and I really needed my sleep Sunday night. So when I started feeling the headache just before bed, I declared It Must Not Be, and I went to bed without the medicine.
Lying there, feeling very sleepy, I could meditate. Focusing on my brain very very carefully, I could make the pain dissipate as long as I could hold my focus. Long enough to fall asleep.
Turns out you cannot meditate in your sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke when a drill bored through the back of my right eyeball.
OK. I guess will-power was not enough. I got up, fumbled in the dark for the bottle, fumbled in the dark for some water, and finally swallowed the migraine pill, eyeball screaming in agony. Then I fumbled in the dark back to bed, and lay down, throbbing, waiting for the medicine to take effect.
My body very much wanted to be asleep, but the pain in my head would not allow it. I began dreaming of riding the train lines around Melbourne. But with every frequent stop someone pounded a screw driver into the back of my eye.
South Morang. BAM!
Epping. BAM!
Cragieburn. BAM!
Kooyong. BAM!
Tooronga. BAM!
Rolling over gently, I understood that I was going insane. I found it very discouraging that insanity hurt so much. I had expected it to be more freeing.
I had to wake myself up to meditate again, to tell my brain that in fact, there was nothing drilling into the back of my right eyeball. Nothing, brain!
Eventually the train lines gave way to the flickering light of thousands of strands of fiber optic cables, their tips dancing in red and purple behind my eyelids. In a moment of lucidity I realized that this is what life would probably be like when my brain had worn itself down into the late stages of old age. Full of vibrant color and pain.
And then I realized that I was going to throw up. And if I threw up, I would lose the pain medicine and I would be stuck all night with the screw in the eyeball. So I focused again on breathing.
Breathe slower!
And rolled over and focused again.
Even slower!
And slowly, slowly, the interminable night crawled along and the next thing I knew I was asleep, really sleeping, dreaming that I had to pee really badly. But no matter how many times I checked out the public facilities, nothing seemed to give me needed relief. Why did I still have to pee?!!
Oh. Because I was asleep.
That thought did it for me. I woke up, took myself off to the real bathroom, then crawled back into bed.
Checked the head.
Not too bad! Just a little residual throbbing.
Checked the stomach.
Not bad at all! Almost no nausea.
Stretched out a little, congratulating myself on a migraine finally averted.
Rolled over to go back to sleep. And my eyes popped open. And stayed there. Wide awake.
Why am I awake?
Oh yes. Caffeine in the migraine pills. That's why I felt no more pain and nausea. Because the blood vessels in my brain were all comfortably dilated once again! Blood humming through my thinker, causing all sorts of thinky thoughts. Think think think.
But not at this time in the morning, brain! Don't you understand that I need to sleep???!! That this is a Very Important night for sleeping?
I almost gave up and got up.
But then I decided that it was probably better for my body if I pretended to sleep. So I lay in bed, breathing, listening to the thinkiness in my head, wishing away that last little throb, and pretending I was asleep.
I pretended all the way through the crack-of-dawn call of the kookaburra, off on the other side of the park.
I pretended while I listened to the first train of the morning clackety clack far away by the river.
I pretended through the rattle of the earliest morning trams, early morning bell.
I pretended after the magpies began serenading the first traces of sunlight. And the noisy miners joined in. And the wattle birds.
And I stayed there and pretended all those hours until Tim's alarm went off, six-thirty a.m., and he stretched and smiled and asked, oh so innocently,
"How did you sleep, Love?"
I know what it will be like when I am old and insane and in pain and screaming in frustration at those poor dear nurses who are trying to get me up for the day. I pity them. I pity poor Tim.
Good morning, Monday.
Happy first day of the semester!
Happy first day of teaching, ever, in Australia!
You're going to be AWESOME!
Living here
Saturday afternoon, after dropping Jonathan off at a birthday party, Tim and I took a train on the Frankston line, heading south, down the peninsula. We got off at the Seaford station, and walked a couple of blocks to where a wooden pier poked out over the bay.
The sky was blue with pale white clouds. The sea was green and clear. The sand was pale yellow white.
We walked north, following the beach, with the water to the left, a sea-side reserve to the right, passing only a handful of people.
As we approached the train station to the north, feeling the warm water on my bare feet, I decided to swim. Tim waited in the sun on the beach while I jumped in the waves and swam.
A little while later we caught a train north again, to meet up with Jonathan after dinner.
I always wanted to live close to the beach. I always wanted to be able to spontaneously go for a swim on a Saturday afternoon. And now I can. I live here.
My world is colored blue and green and white and gold. And I live here.
****
A week ago Monday, while washing the breakfast dishes, I looked outside to see a large hot air balloon floating across the park just out the window. I called the family to see, and then another drifted by. And another and another.
I hurried and put my shoes on, and headed out into the park.
A large group of hot air balloons had landed in the fields all over the park, and the riders were in various stages of collapsing the balloons after their sunrise journey.
What a lovely sunrise for me!
The world is colored in green and blue and gold and pink. And I live here.
Today, I am feeling grateful.
The sky was blue with pale white clouds. The sea was green and clear. The sand was pale yellow white.
We walked north, following the beach, with the water to the left, a sea-side reserve to the right, passing only a handful of people.
As we approached the train station to the north, feeling the warm water on my bare feet, I decided to swim. Tim waited in the sun on the beach while I jumped in the waves and swam.
A little while later we caught a train north again, to meet up with Jonathan after dinner.
I always wanted to live close to the beach. I always wanted to be able to spontaneously go for a swim on a Saturday afternoon. And now I can. I live here.
My world is colored blue and green and white and gold. And I live here.
****
A week ago Monday, while washing the breakfast dishes, I looked outside to see a large hot air balloon floating across the park just out the window. I called the family to see, and then another drifted by. And another and another.
I hurried and put my shoes on, and headed out into the park.
A large group of hot air balloons had landed in the fields all over the park, and the riders were in various stages of collapsing the balloons after their sunrise journey.
The world is colored in green and blue and gold and pink. And I live here.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Bicycling home
Something I never knew two years ago is that Melbourne has an amazing network of bicycle paths. The city has put a lot of money into connecting trails to avoid roads so that lots of people can ride their bikes to and from work more safely.
I shipped my bike from the US, expecting to live on the edge of one of these trails. But we moved closer into the city centre than I expected. Even so, I stared at the bicycle maps of the city for hours. Google predicted it would take me 96 minutes to ride to work. That seemed like too much. Until a colleague helped me figure out a better way. It would take 96 minutes to ride to work, because that was the uphill direction. It would only take 75 minutes to ride home from work! And bikes could be taken on trains. She explained that she would take her bike on the train to work in the morning, and then ride downhill at a more leisurely pace in the evenings.
And so I tried it. Three times so far. And I'm a believer.
The hardest part of the ride is connecting from the university to the bike paths. There are some suggested neighborhood roads, but I haven't managed to follow those yet. So far, I have ended up on the side of a busy six lane road, trying to find that secret quiet way to the path.
Once on the bike path, however, it's just a straight hour's ride along bike and pedestrian paths basically to my door.
It's so amazing to have that infrastructure! I feel so lucky to live in a place with these trails.
Of course, there are also a gazillion bicycles on the trail, but most of them are going the opposite direction: from the city to the suburbs at the end of the day. I go from the suburbs into the city.
For me, the trail starts along Scotchman's Creek, in a reserve full of tall gum trees. You bike along a busy road, under the freeway, turn left, and suddenly you're alone on your bike in the bush.
Follow the Scotchman's Creek trail to the west along the creek, into the parks and past the Oakleigh swimming pool, over the bridge over the Warrigal road, along the path lined with trees and grass on one side, huge concrete barriers on the other. The freeway is just on the other side.
Cross the bridge over the freeway at the East Malvern train station. Now you have joined up with the Gardiner's Creek trail.
The Gardiner's Creek trail is even more amazing than the Scotchman's Creek trail. There are several bridges over the creek, and nearly all of the ride is through a string of urban parks. School children play in the grass, families walk their dogs, and thousands of commuters bike along the trail.
And then, just before the turnoff for Jonathan's school, the trees open up, and you find yourself riding high above the creek.
A few minutes later, the trail swings to the left, over a bridge, which I just found out was only completed in 2014. And then the trail turns right again, but instead of crossing under the freeway, it hangs, suspended, from the freeway up above! Creek below, toll freeway above, and bicycles, cruising along for free unknown to the traffic above.
At the end of the suspended trail, the path meets the Yarra river. Now it's the Yarra River Trail. This travels along the river banks from the western side of the city all the way north and east to the edges of my knowledge of Melbourne. I only cycle along a short bit between the Gardiner's creek trail and the botanic gardens. Most of the time, the trail is up on the river banks. But at times, when it seems there is not quite enough space for a bike trail and a river and the roads, the trail runs onto pontoons on the river itself!
After going down and up, down and up, onto the river and back, a few times, passing several bridges for cars, and one for trains, the trail meets a bridge just for bicycles and pedestrians. I cross the bridge, ending up just on the far side of the Botanic Gardens, now only a 15 minute walk from home.
Unfortunately, this is a very steep uphill 15-minute walk, and by this time I have been on the bicycle for about an hour. Shift into low gear. Head up the hill. Keep shifting lower and lower and lower.... To the top! And then cruise around the round about, down Park Street, and into the park. Zoom down the park paths to our back gate, and home.
The first time, it took me 90 minutes, even downhill. The second time, only 75 minutes. The third time, only 70 minutes. 70 minutes! That's good enough. We'll stop there.
I shipped my bike from the US, expecting to live on the edge of one of these trails. But we moved closer into the city centre than I expected. Even so, I stared at the bicycle maps of the city for hours. Google predicted it would take me 96 minutes to ride to work. That seemed like too much. Until a colleague helped me figure out a better way. It would take 96 minutes to ride to work, because that was the uphill direction. It would only take 75 minutes to ride home from work! And bikes could be taken on trains. She explained that she would take her bike on the train to work in the morning, and then ride downhill at a more leisurely pace in the evenings.
And so I tried it. Three times so far. And I'm a believer.
The hardest part of the ride is connecting from the university to the bike paths. There are some suggested neighborhood roads, but I haven't managed to follow those yet. So far, I have ended up on the side of a busy six lane road, trying to find that secret quiet way to the path.
Once on the bike path, however, it's just a straight hour's ride along bike and pedestrian paths basically to my door.
It's so amazing to have that infrastructure! I feel so lucky to live in a place with these trails.
Of course, there are also a gazillion bicycles on the trail, but most of them are going the opposite direction: from the city to the suburbs at the end of the day. I go from the suburbs into the city.
For me, the trail starts along Scotchman's Creek, in a reserve full of tall gum trees. You bike along a busy road, under the freeway, turn left, and suddenly you're alone on your bike in the bush.
 |
| Photo credit: Glen Pringle, via Wikipedia |
Cross the bridge over the freeway at the East Malvern train station. Now you have joined up with the Gardiner's Creek trail.
The Gardiner's Creek trail is even more amazing than the Scotchman's Creek trail. There are several bridges over the creek, and nearly all of the ride is through a string of urban parks. School children play in the grass, families walk their dogs, and thousands of commuters bike along the trail.
 |
| Photo credit: Glen Pringle again. |
 |
| Photo credit: bicyclenetwork.com.au |
 |
| Photo credit: ajft.org |
At the end of the suspended trail, the path meets the Yarra river. Now it's the Yarra River Trail. This travels along the river banks from the western side of the city all the way north and east to the edges of my knowledge of Melbourne. I only cycle along a short bit between the Gardiner's creek trail and the botanic gardens. Most of the time, the trail is up on the river banks. But at times, when it seems there is not quite enough space for a bike trail and a river and the roads, the trail runs onto pontoons on the river itself!
After going down and up, down and up, onto the river and back, a few times, passing several bridges for cars, and one for trains, the trail meets a bridge just for bicycles and pedestrians. I cross the bridge, ending up just on the far side of the Botanic Gardens, now only a 15 minute walk from home.
Unfortunately, this is a very steep uphill 15-minute walk, and by this time I have been on the bicycle for about an hour. Shift into low gear. Head up the hill. Keep shifting lower and lower and lower.... To the top! And then cruise around the round about, down Park Street, and into the park. Zoom down the park paths to our back gate, and home.
The first time, it took me 90 minutes, even downhill. The second time, only 75 minutes. The third time, only 70 minutes. 70 minutes! That's good enough. We'll stop there.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
The Commute
Jonathan got a Student Pass for public transit. He can ride any
public bus, train, or tram in the entire state of Victoria with his
pass, and his student ID card.
There are no yellow school buses here. Children take trams and trains to school. Younger children walk with their parents. Secondary school children go on their own. After two days of riding to and from school with parents, Jonathan asked if he could please try the commute on his own, like the rest of the children in his school.
We had always planned to let Jonathan take the tram to school alone eventually, where eventually was some abstract place in the inconceivable future when he was tall and old. But after just two days?
I had to take some deep breaths, and talk about it with local friends and neighbors over the weekend. The overall response was, "Of course he wants to ride alone." And tales along the lines of, "My oldest has been taking the train alone since year five."
Parents here can hardly understand why anyone would not want an older child to make their own way to school, where "older" apparently means "eleven". After some thought a couple of people sympathized with my position.
"I understand why parents would be afraid to let their child take the tram alone in the US. There are lots of guns in the US."
But we're in Australia. So we let him go.
Tim waits with Jonathan at the tram stop in the mornings. Jonathan takes the tram to school on his own, and catches tram or train home on his own. He has a prepaid phone. He can call if there are problems.
But meanwhile, the child suddenly knows what freedom feels like.
That pass he has, the pass that is good on any public bus, train, or tram in the state of Victoria, has opened up his eyes to options. He mentioned to his dad a few days ago that he could take the train after school to the city centre and buy a snack, then come home. And his dad said yes, he could do that. He had his own pocket money that he could spend. And his mom said, "But call if you are going to be too late!" And the boy and his dad both rolled their eyes and reminded me that I was the last one home, so I would be last to know. But still.
Wednesday, during Jonathan's morning tram ride to school alone, a few train-crossing gates in the city got stuck down, completely blocking traffic -- for 90 minutes. The traffic, I hear, was horrendous. One of those gates was on the road to Jonathan's school, and he got stuck in the tram for almost two hours.
When it was clear he was going to be late for school, Jonathan called Tim, who called the school, who sent out a message saying that they were aware of the train-gate problem, and they wouldn't be handing out any detentions for being late. Tim called Jonathan back to let him know.
Jonathan completely missed his first class, and he reported that he was the last of his classmates to arrive. But everything got sorted out. No worries, as they say here.
Even though some of us do worry.
Sometimes you have to let a child go, when they are responsible and mature. Let them go, be part of the culture in which they have landed.
The trams, Jonathan reports, were running fine, right on time, on Thursday and Friday.
There are no yellow school buses here. Children take trams and trains to school. Younger children walk with their parents. Secondary school children go on their own. After two days of riding to and from school with parents, Jonathan asked if he could please try the commute on his own, like the rest of the children in his school.
We had always planned to let Jonathan take the tram to school alone eventually, where eventually was some abstract place in the inconceivable future when he was tall and old. But after just two days?
I had to take some deep breaths, and talk about it with local friends and neighbors over the weekend. The overall response was, "Of course he wants to ride alone." And tales along the lines of, "My oldest has been taking the train alone since year five."
Parents here can hardly understand why anyone would not want an older child to make their own way to school, where "older" apparently means "eleven". After some thought a couple of people sympathized with my position.
"I understand why parents would be afraid to let their child take the tram alone in the US. There are lots of guns in the US."
But we're in Australia. So we let him go.
Tim waits with Jonathan at the tram stop in the mornings. Jonathan takes the tram to school on his own, and catches tram or train home on his own. He has a prepaid phone. He can call if there are problems.
But meanwhile, the child suddenly knows what freedom feels like.
That pass he has, the pass that is good on any public bus, train, or tram in the state of Victoria, has opened up his eyes to options. He mentioned to his dad a few days ago that he could take the train after school to the city centre and buy a snack, then come home. And his dad said yes, he could do that. He had his own pocket money that he could spend. And his mom said, "But call if you are going to be too late!" And the boy and his dad both rolled their eyes and reminded me that I was the last one home, so I would be last to know. But still.
Wednesday, during Jonathan's morning tram ride to school alone, a few train-crossing gates in the city got stuck down, completely blocking traffic -- for 90 minutes. The traffic, I hear, was horrendous. One of those gates was on the road to Jonathan's school, and he got stuck in the tram for almost two hours.
When it was clear he was going to be late for school, Jonathan called Tim, who called the school, who sent out a message saying that they were aware of the train-gate problem, and they wouldn't be handing out any detentions for being late. Tim called Jonathan back to let him know.
Jonathan completely missed his first class, and he reported that he was the last of his classmates to arrive. But everything got sorted out. No worries, as they say here.
Even though some of us do worry.
Sometimes you have to let a child go, when they are responsible and mature. Let them go, be part of the culture in which they have landed.
The trams, Jonathan reports, were running fine, right on time, on Thursday and Friday.
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