(from my diary)
17 December 1992
I was in the gym when someone yelled on the deck ‘Land!’ It was 10 am. By noon we came to Freemantle and waited for the pilot for hours. Went to see the city at 5 pm. Unbearable heat, temperature 34°C (93°F). Very small city that reminded me our Crimean resorts. Palm trees, snails on street lamp poles, sandy soil, sandstone walls. Reasonably clean. Bought ice-cream and candy. Nothing else caught the eye. The locals are dressed disgustingly untidy. Returned to the ship after 8 pm. The evening air was fresh and cool when we walked back. Left Freemantle at 10 pm.
So this was my first encounter with Australia, our new home. Looking back, I know I judged too harshly. In 8.5 years of my permanent residency in Australia, I traveled all over the country and learned to love every bit of its untamed land. As for the clothes that shocked me so much, well, Australians did have their own style that I soon accepted too and found it comfortable to wear in a hot climate. The “untidy” impression was due to wrinkled cotton that was in fashion at that time. Having had a closer look later, I noticed that the clothes were always clean, no matter how frayed and holey they were.
18 December 1992
Today is a chilly morning. Surrounded by the sea as if there had been no Freemantle.
After half a day on shore, the land was gone out of sight again. It may have been a mirage if we had not had a large bag of Australian candy in the cabin as a proof of our visit to Freemantle. Sweets of any kind were not on the ship’s menu. My son and I missed sugar badly.
19 December 1992
I work on the computer, dance, work out and play patience.
Life onboard after Freemantle was exactly the same as before it. It bothered me though that the captain seemed to disappear without the trace. The crew behaved as if it was normal not to have the captain around. I asked about him.
‘He is fine,’ the crew laughed.
‘How do you know? Did anyone see him?’
Yes, they checked up on the captain.
Every door on the ship had a square hatch in its lower half that could be open from both sides. If a door got stuck and someone became trapped inside, it was a way to get out in emergency.
A crew member climbed into the captain’s cabin through such a hatch. He found the captain asleep on the couch, dead drunk. Empty bottles were scattered on the floor. Meals were regularly delivered to the captain’s door and dirty plates were taken away. So he ate. The captain also had his own supply of nonperishable food that could last until the ship was back to Russia.
21 December 1992
Staying indoors all the time. Sunny and cold. The crew said it is because of proximity to Antarctica. Sent radiograms to my parents to tell them that the ship is behind the schedule.
23 December 1992
Going along the coastline. Warm weather. We were in Sydney at 8 pm. The cargo port is right in the middle of city center. Something was wrong with the ramp. The repairs took all evening. Very humid air makes it difficult to breathe. A thunderstorm was raging on the city’s outskirts and the lightning lit up the sky.
It was late evening when the ship berthed at the Port of Sydney. The stevedores stood ready for the “Academic Gorbunov”, but her ramp could not be lowered and cargo unloading had to wait until the next morning. Even without that, there was so much activity going on around the ship that we did not leave the deck trying not to miss any of it. The most urgent and serious matter was to repair the broken engine that slowed us down and ultimately led to the events onboard. The spare parts for the engine were preordered, they were lifted on the ship with the help of her winch and the works immediately began.
A young Russian couple who made the same ocean journey over one year ago came to the ship. They were telling the crew what happened in their life after arrival to Australia. I pricked up my ears to listen to their story and then joined the conversation. The wife was proud of what they achieved. She said that both of them learned English, got jobs and that they already moved apartments twice. Her statement about moving confused me. In Russia, our family moved every other year because someone got married, or divorced, or had children and therefore the number of people in the household changed. From what I heard so far from this young woman, there were still only two of them. I asked if it was really necessary to move so often. She looked at me as if I had been a little child.
‘Of course, it was. We improved our conditions a lot.’
Her answer raised more questions in my mind. I sensed that they were not smart questions and stayed quiet hoping that she would elaborate. But she simply smiled at me and said, ‘You will understand why pretty soon.’
The couple wished good luck to us, new migrants. I stood on the deck in a bewildered state after they were gone thinking of the multitude of things to learn about life in Australia and what I would need to change in my Russian mentality.
The night was beautiful. The thunderstorm was going far from the harbor. Huge lightings split the dark cloudy skies followed by blasts of thunder. I could smell moisture and ozone in the air, but it did not rain over us.
The port was going to be closed on the 24th and 25th for the holidays. The crew hinted that it was no coincidence that we got to the port just before its closure and not a day earlier. When else would they get a chance to spend Christmas in Sydney? Paying for two extra days of berthing probably caused a lot of displeasure from the captain who stayed locked in his cabin and was unable to prevent the crew from enjoying the festivities.
Things eventually quietened around the ship and we went to bed eager to see Sydney next morning.
24 December 1992
We left the ship right after breakfast. The port is in the city center and we could walk to everything. The next day was Christmas. The entire Sydney was shopping as if there was no tomorrow. We joined the crowds. I threw the caution to the wind and stopped counting dollars in my wallet.
Before leaving Russia I promised my close friend a gift from Australia. She asked for a nice purse, preferably white. My son and I went to several stores. White purses were few and expensive, but a promise was a promise and I bought one. Then it occurred to me it would be good to put into it a birthday card. My friend’s birthday was coming; I was sure she would be pleased to receive an Australian card. Cards, unlike white purses, were plentiful. I chose a lovely card and looked at its reverse side where the price was. Five dollars! How could a piece of paper with some words and pictures cost that much! I groaned and paid for the card anyway. We also bought more candy, nuts and a small kangaroo for my mother.
All this shopping made us hungry. We already missed lunch on the ship. Feeling brave after spending a lot of money, I entered a sandwich shop. The line was long, but it moved fast. I dug some English words out of my memory to order sandwiches for us. When our turn came, I was so slow to pronounce those carefully prepared words that it was easier to simply point my finger at the ingredients that I wanted rather than to talk. The girl who serviced me got irritated; I was holding the line. Oh, I did not think about drinks while standing in the line. The even more irritated girl told me to go to the large refrigerator in the corner and to get the drinks myself. My son opened the refrigerator door and froze staring at the multicolored cans and bottles. He never saw them before. The line patiently waited. I grabbed two cans at random and closed the door. The girl was at the boiling point. She did not know that I was ordering the first sandwiches in my life. I hurriedly paid and we got out of the shop.
Outside on the fresh air, we sat down on the bench and devoured out sandwiches. It’s all right that ordering them did not go smoothly. They were delicious anyway.
25 December 1992, Christmas.
Overcast and it rains at times. We went for a walk after lunch.
The easily identifiable Sydney Opera House was visible from the ship. We walked around it admiring the building, then went to the park. My son took off his t-shirt and shoes and ran around barefoot like an animal that was set free. The lawn grass was lush green and thick; it felt like a mattress under our feet. I looked cautiously around if it was allowed to walk on it. Yes, others did that too. Some people sat on blankets that were spread on the grass. My son found a slope, lay down on his side and rolled down the slope laughing. He repeated it time after time and nobody paid attention to us. I knew in Russia we would be immediately frowned upon and such behavior would be labeled as unacceptable.
In the afternoon the Sydney streets became deserted. It did not feel like the holiday. Australians must have been with their families sitting around Christmas dinner tables.
26 December 1992
Today Sydney partied and we did too. We went to the Aquarium to look at all kinds of water creatures, big and small, from crocodiles to tiny seahorses. Seals, sharks, stingrays, sawfish, octopuses, crabs, mollusks, corals and so many fishes that my imagination could never picture.
We spent hours in the Aquarium until we could see no more fishes. By the beach, there was an amusement park. While my son enjoyed a carousel ride the operator tried to strike a conversation with me. My limited English did make me chatty. Besides, I did not know how customary it was to have personal conversations with total strangers. I replied in short sentences secretly wishing that he would leave me alone. I later learned that Australians are very open about themselves and extremely social. Whenever two people get together at the same place and time, they’ve got to talk and no subject is off limits!
One kiosk was selling silver jewelry. The temptation was too big for me and I bought a pair of earrings. They were shaped like snakes with small rubies for eyes and tails that got attached to earlobes. The earrings were $12. I compared their price with $5 paid for the birthday card and once again could not understand why the card cost that much.
27 December 1992
Left Sydney at 7 am. I am writing letters to family and friends.
The holidays in Sydney were over. The ship was going to Melbourne, our final destination. It was time to face the stark reality. On the following day we were going to disembark and to be left pretty much to our own devices.
I emptied one bag and packed into it all gifts and letters. Vladimir agreed to deliver the bag to my mother once the ship was in St. Petersburg.
It was our last night on the “Academic Gorbunov”. After 50 days onboard the ship felt like home.
28 December 1992, Melbourne
Customs and border formalities were quick. We were free to leave the ship and to go anywhere we liked. While in Sydney I had contacted the Jewish Welfare Society that sponsored us. They owned an apartment where new arrivals could stay for free until they found a place to rent.
Mikhail’s sister came to pick him up. Maria was met by her hosting family with whom she was going to stay 3 months before taking another Russian freighter back. We said farewell to each other thinking that we would never meet again. We were wrong; it is such a small world.
We brought in our belongings Into the Jewish Welfare apartment, sat down and did not know what to do. It felt so lonely that I grabbed my son, ran outside and flagged down a taxi. Not caring how much a taxi was going to cost us, I told the driver to take us to the port. The “Academic Gorbunov” was still there. Most of the crew went ashore. The few remaining sailors were going about their business. It was a mistake to return. My son and I did not belong to the ship anymore. I had to step over the threshold of my previous life and to start living anew.