“Oh, it’s just nice to get away from all the noise at home. You know?” Her eyebrows had curved up while her fingers paused in mid air. I’d nodded politely even though I couldn’t possibly fathom why someone would go to the library every day just so they can knit.
I’d just started working in the library when I met her for the first time. The curious stares never perturbed her, and neither did the incessant shuffling of feet.
People came and went. Since only a handful of them regularly spent time reading, the knitting lady soon became an icon you couldn’t miss.
In the following years, I spent occasions wondering what drove her away from home and into the library. I mean, I’d go when I wanted a book. Or to work or to attend a meeting. Theories constantly whirled my head—perhaps her neighbours were loud and rowdy, I mused turning on my cassette player at home one night. Or maybe her husband was a messy gardener leaving dirt marks all around the house to annoy her. Or perhaps, I wondered remembering my own grandparents, her grandkids were a pain in the ass and a torment to the ears.
But I never asked her.
“I should’ve,” I wrote in my diary the night after her funeral.
It wasn’t people that’d driven her way from home. It was lack there of.
She had an unmistakeable spring in her step. It was a new town and a new life, yes but she would make it work. She was nothing if not adaptive.
She slipped into her new sweater, pulled on the boots, buckled up the coat, adjusted the hat, and walked out the door. Winter was fast approaching.
Hello, world! Her soul yelled. Show me what you got!
As if they’d heard, two boys came up from hind her. With watermelon heads and noses the size of grapes,”Yo!” one of them called out. A large cap sat on his head while chains dangled round his collar and fake tattoos plastered his temple. He leaned forwards, shoving her nostrils with the nauseating scent of long-packaged cigarettes, “you got cash?”
Before she could react, the other boy grabbed her backpack and shook her. Hard. Stumbling on the walkway, she mutely watched him fish her wallet and grab her buffer money.
He thrust the bag at her, while tattoo face ruffled her hair, “Good girl!” He leered before walking off.
It was now an old town and accustomed life. But she still doesn’t look at a man’s eye without shivering within.
When was the last time you did something for the first time?
Not long ago, this question popped up all over the internet. People woke up to realise how meaningless their everyday routines are. And all of a sudden, they were talking about making significant lifestyle changes that you would associate with the madness of new year’s resolutions.
People quit their jobs. They took to hiking, to jogging, to exercising, and some even considered bungee jumping for crying out loud.
Despite the varying degree of madness, everyone who’d boarded the bandwagon had one thing in common: they wanted to come out of their comfort zone.
That’s commendable.
It’s just too easy to snuggle up in a comfortable place, listening to comforting words and eating mac and cheese—even more so when Winter’s just around the corner.
It was one of those days—cold and cloudy, not a ray of sunshine to dry out the dewy grasses. I woke up to 7 degrees Celsius (44 Fahrenheit), and for the first time in my life, it didn’t go over 9 degrees Celsius all day. Taken by surprise and shaking with shock, I sat in the corner of my room with my blanket wrapped around my shoulders like my mother’s arms. Though I’d closed the window and the wind whistled way out of my reach, I still sensed the biting cold just waiting for me beyond the comfort of my room.
I didn’t want to go out. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and all I wanted to do was lock myself in my room until winter past.
In my defence, I relocated to Australia only a month ago. It’s my first experience with Autumn and the fast-approaching Winter. But after sitting in my corner all morning, and watching the final episode of House of Cards, I realised I was a coward. I work from home, which is convenient, but that also means I could use it as an excuse for not stepping out.
Within five minutes, before I could change my mind, I was in the shower. I would go out for a walk and face the falling temperatures. So what if it’s cold, I told myself—let’s get used to it.
And so I went.
Walking along Lake Ginninderra in Canberra, Australia
I was a little cautious—wearing my beanie to prevent the cold from whispering in my ear or coming down on my forehead. But from the moment I decided to get out, I felt the temperature within me change—from feeling cold and scared, I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the weather outside. And as I walked down the street, flanked by trees in their Fall prime, I felt the breeze kissing my face. It stung a bit, yes. But after a while, I started enjoying it. It didn’t hurt anymore, but felt rather welcoming. My nose was running—I was breathing fresh air like never before. The leaves rustled all around me, the cockatoos sang in approval as I strode past their homes, and even a couple of other people crazy enough to wander the same path smiled as we crossed each other.
By the time I returned, I felt so alive. And cold, yes. I did make myself some hot tea before curling under the blanket, but it was still an achievement in my book.
Doing something for the first time doesn’t have to be a drastic and dramatic adventure. It could be a simple everyday situation where we explore the uncomfortable. And for me, it was challenging myself not to fear this beautiful time of the year.
Australian politics and history have evaded us for a long time. I realised this as I walked past portrait after portrait of the Australian prime ministers. Most of Canberra’s suburbs have names of these Prime Ministers, but aside from that I hadn’t heard of even one of them before. What a shame. Though I grew up in Asia, I knew leaders of Britain, the US, and Canada from an early age—they were always in our history books or the ugly political discussions at awkward family dinners.
Wondering about the weirdness of it all, I wandered the old parliament house in Canberra.
Although it was built as a temporary parliament in the 1920s, the provisional parliament building ended up serving as the actual parliament for over fifty years. Today, though, it’s a storehouse of exhibitions and historical monuments.
Apart from the primary attractions like the House of Representatives Chamber, the Senate Chamber, the Prime Minister’s office, the Cabinet, and the Opposition Party Room, the parliament building is also home to plenty of smaller, yet significant exhibitions.
Prime Minister’s staff offices
Prime Minister’s office
Cabinet
Vintage computer – office of the parliament speaker
When I walked in, I had no idea what to expect. Equipped with a though floor plan of the entire building, I wandered through the corridors looking into each exhibition.
Finders keepers My first stop, this exhibition showcases the different types of collectables famous Australian figures collected—like the telephone collection of a former telecommunications officer, the tie collection of a former minister, the t-shirts and badges owned by a social activist, and the porcelain collection of a parliamentarian. Each of these collections ties into the larger story that museums themselves are collectors.
From Neil Baker’s telephone collection
OnetoEight Moving along, I paused at a large room dedicated to remembering the Prime Ministers of Australia. Apart from photographs and descriptions of their work, you can also hear recorded versions of some speeches they delivered throughout their reign.
Wives of the Prime Ministers Inspiring and eye-opening, though they were, more striking was the portrait exhibition of the wives of prime ministers. A surprise, it was—although every museum I’ve been to celebrates public leaders and their achievements, none of them mentions the families that supported the great menfolk of our time. This exhibition, albeit small, casts a vital spotlight on the womenfolk of the nation.
Whenever I visit historical sites, I don’t set time limits to myself. I don’t like rushing through exhibits to move on to the next attraction on my list. That’s such a touristy thing to do. Instead, I take my time to explore, read inscriptions, watch the videos, and linger. As a result, I spent $2 (entrance fee) and over 4 hours inside the parliament building.
I have no regrets, though. If I hadn’t stayed on, I would’ve missed the witty and thought-provoking political cartoons on display. Couriser and couriouser, huh?
I would’ve missed the #UDHRquilt project. UDHR stands for Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and this project was the work of craftivists (craft+activist), Tal Fitzpatrick and Stephanie Dunlap. They made four quilts, embroidered with the articles mentioned in UDHR. I’m no activist. I have mixed feelings about how human rights are so subjective at times. But I still enjoy a good piece of art.
Oh, and I would’ve missed the crown jewels. Not the real ones, though, of course. When Queen Victoria visited Australia, they made a separate area in the parliament to accommodate the Queen and her party. And as I stepped into her living space, I couldn’t believe how simple everything was. The dining table was just a basic wooden structure, the bathrooms, the kitchens, the sitting area, though impeccable, were more functional than fancy. It reflected that the royalty and the highest members of the government were still so human, so vain.
Replica of the Crown Jewels
Had I left any sooner, I’d have missed the most exciting exhibit of them all—the Press Gallery. It’s hard to fathom that the small, even stuffy, rooms above the house of representatives were the life of the government. Everything that the world knew and heard of about the rule makers came from the press—every printed phrase and every uttered word makes a world of difference. And as I stood where so many print and radio journalists had stood in the past, I felt proud to appreciate the power of the written word and its influence in the world.
Writing on the wall – Press Gallery
Other highlights in the museum:
Prime Ministers’ office
Opposition party room
Opposition party whip’s room and the television that let him observe the proceedings at the house of representatives without being there
Dress Code of the Empire: A look at Edmund Barton’s (first prime minister of Australia) costume
Copies of the Australian Constitution, Declaration of Independence signed by the Queen, Australia Act, and its modifications
Various signs and slogans of Australian politicians – then and now
A brief history of democracy in Australia
In the end, it was like any other trip to the museum—so satisfying, so full of lessons, and so overwhelming. And still so worthwhile. By the time I left, I didn’t have time to go elsewhere because most of the museums and historical sites in Canberra close at 5 pm. Remember that when you visit—and do visit.
The Chaos Within 