Impressions of a migrant
It was 1974 when I made my epic journey to Australia to attend a university.
I came from Kuantan, a small town in Malaysia, where bicycles outnumbered cars when there were no mobile phones, internet, and computers and when the largest and noisiest plane in the world was the Boeing 747.
Not having been on an aeroplane before nor to a western country the trip was indeed an epic journey for me.
Here is the story of my first impressions of Melbourne more than 40 years ago.
A sea of eager eyes stared at me on the other side of the automatic exit doors at Melbourne airport. The only western person I have ever met was the Peace Corps English teacher from the USA who had an evangelical fervour in making sure I pronounced my ‘v’s correctly — “Volvo” instead of “wowo”.
I searched for the familiar face of Mun, my friend who promised to meet me “outside the exit doors,” but all I saw were white faces. It was intimidating for a teenager who has never left Malaysia before.
Frightened and unsure, I turned to go back to the automatic doors to the safety of the customs officers. But alas; I was too late the doors closed behind me with a sign that read “Unauthorised Entry Prohibited”.
I was stuck, amidst a sea of unfamiliar faces.
Then I heard “Stiffen!”, my Christian name, Steven pronounced with a Hong Kong accent. I was given the name by my teacher at a Christian school in Kuantan.
I turned to see Mun waving frantically. What an incredible sight to finally see Asian eyes! With a sigh of relief and sporting a big smile, I pushed my trolley toward Mun.
Driving from the airport to Mun’s apartment, I stared at Australian workers digging up part of the road. It was a rare sight for me.
In the 70s in Malaysia, every western person was wealthy as they were expatriates in senior positions, seconded to the country to manage a foreign organisation. Those who did menial task in Malaysia were earmarked uneducated and usually from economically disadvantaged homes. A westerner in Malaysia was never seen doing these jobs.
I couldn’t believe my eyes and made a mental note to mention it in my letters home.
Mun became my private tour guide for all things Australian, and he pointed out places of interest as we drove into the city.
“That’s the Children’s Hospital,” Mun pointed.
I thought: “Wow, there is a hospital, especially for children. How advanced!”
“… and over there is the dental hospital,” said Mun, pointing again.
“Ooh, a whole hospital for dentists?” I said, not realising it was a training hospital.
”If you have any problems with your teeth, you can go to the hospital and get treated for free,” Mun continued.
A dental hospital may not sound like a place of interest to regular tourists coming into Melbourne, but for students who had limited finances, knowing about this free dental hospital was important. We were expected NOT to have any teeth issues, but knowing a dental hospital that offered free service was a good backup plan.
Then I noticed train tracks.
Typically, there is nothing unusual about train tracks, but these tracks were anything but ordinary: they were in the middle of roads shared with cars. We were driving over train tracks. My thoughts went wild searching for the logic behind sharing the road with a train. I knew trains and automobiles couldn’t share the same traffic without risking a significant accident.
“Melbourne must be a dangerous place for traffic. This is not right,” I thought, looking intently at the tracks, not realising of course they were tram tracks instead.
“They have a free dental hospital but can’t build enough roads for cars? Weird!” I started to blink from lack of sleep.
“We are entering the city,” Mun announced proudly, interrupting my thoughts.
As we stopped at a set of traffic lights, I noticed a street sign by the side of the road.
“NO STANDING ANYTIME”
From an innocent first time traveller’s perspective, Melbourne must not be as safe a place as the brochures depicted. Not only did trains share roads with cars, but people were also not allowed to stand on the side of the road either. Maybe you would get mugged if you stood still or perhaps that was to avoid being bulldozed by a runaway bullet train. All this was utterly confusing for a tired teenager.
Having had little sleep on the plane and being confronted by convoluted logic was too much for me.
I fell asleep in the car.
