While I enjoyed the subtle beauty of Baulkham Hills, its distant proximity from most things began to make the low rent prices seem like more of a cost than a benefit, especially when you have to rely on public transportation. My bus route to work was of particular concern, as it involved an hour commute each way, including a bus transfer, which is more time spent standing in one place waiting for busses than enjoying Australia.
I toured my new home several weeks ago, and met my new housemate/ landlord. I remember being immediately struck by the modern design of the clean, white home, and delighting in the fact that the room had its own private balcony. I was overjoyed to find the location allows for a simple fifteen-minute bus commute, or 40 minute walk along the Parramatta River, allowing me a gorgeous sunrise hike on days I feel particularly energetic.
As with clothing shopping where my philosophy is to leave the clothes that spark my interest in the store, and return to make the purchase if the item(s) remain in my mind several days later, I couldn't stop thinking about this house. The woman who gave me the tour was around my age, and very kind. She moved to Sydney two years ago, and what was supposed to be a short stint studying abroad turned into her forever home when she met her husband.
I had made my decision. I texted her, discovered the room was still available, and just like that, I was in.
Parramatta, home to around around 20,000 individuals, has a unique feel. Not booming enough to feel like a city, such as Sydney or San Francisco, yet not quiet enough to feel like a suburb, such as Baulkham Hills or San Ramon. Blend the two atmospheres together, and I suppose you have Parramatta.
The oldest inland European settlement in Australia, Parramatta was founded by the British in 1788 - the same year, in fact, as Sydney. It is the economic capital of Greater Western Sydney and the sixth largest central business district in Australia. And it is now the place I call home.
Before European settlers invaded the area, it was occupied by indigenous tribesmen called the Darug people. They referred to the area as "Burramatta," meaning "Head of Waters," or "Eel Waters." Apparently plentiful sea life inhabits the river I walk along every day during my lunch break, which is how the tribe was able to thrive in the area. When the Europeans took over, "Burramatta" became "Parramatta," and that's how the city was given its name.
In 1803, a historical event of particular interest occurred within city limits. One sunny afternoon, Joseph Samuel, a convicted English murderer, was scheduled to be hanged. At the appropriate hour, he was taken to the gallows in the park where, as per standard, a large crowd was eagerly viewing the entertainment from the surrounding seats. While completing the procedures publicly was meant to caution townspeople and, as the saying goes, 'Scare them straight,' locals generally showed up in spirits we may relate to if we were going to spend an afternoon at the local movie theatre. Hanging was standard at this time, multiple would be completed each day, and there were seldom any complications. So when Samuel was dropped and his rope broke, allowing precious seconds to be added on to his life, it was quite odd. The guards hastily tied him up again, placed him in the appropriate position and dropped him once more, and, to the crowd's astonishment, the rope actually slipped off his neck. Two failed hanging attempts! Ashamed, the policemen grabbed a new rope, tied Samuel up tightly and securely, double-checking their work, and dropped him a third time. Inexplicably, the rope broke once again, for a third failed attempt. Governor King was alerted of this unimaginable circumstance, who decided to chalk the event up as a Divine Intervention. Samuel was untied and walked home a free man.
When I arrived at my new house I was finally able to meet all four of my new housemates, as I had only yet met the woman. Her husband, along with the married couple they had taken in, remained a mystery. I cautiously entered the home with my suitcases, gingerly taking off my shoes, attempting to be extra polite in the inevitably awkward situation of moving in with people I'd never before met.
"Hola!" The man affably exclaimed, "Como estas? Me llamo Jose Luis."
"Hola," the woman said amongst a welcoming smile, "me llamo Vanessa."
And that is how I discovered the tenants do not speak English. I had not thought to ask this particular detail during the inspection.
I'm not sure who was more surprised - me, to hear the entire house speaking Spanish, or them, to hear me respond in a choppy, yet understandable version. I learned that the couple had used much of their life savings to move here from Venezuela to start a new life. Former accountants, they are now working as cleaners to improve their English so they can eventually get back into some kind of trade.
To compound the surprising factor of moving into a house full of Spanish-speakers, I discovered shortly after arriving in the country that, in Australia, it is extremy rare for a person to speak Spanish! French, yes. Chinese, definitely. Italian, sure. Spanish, however, is not even generally taught in schools. My Aussie coworker did not recognize the word "Hola" when I used the greeting one morning - it's that foreign. What are the chances that I would move into a house where Spanish is not only understood, but the first language?! While I noticed I am more than a bit rusty from the progress I made during my time living in Costa Rica, I am looking forward to this opportunity to refresh and perhaps grow the skill.
Another development is that the couple who owns the house has a sister who will be moving to Singapore in the upcoming months. Coincidentally, I also plan to move to Singapore - on May 17, 2016 to be exact - so perhaps this contact will give me a starting point in the country. You never know who you will meet or what connections you will make in this life!
Needless to say, I am greatly looking forward to this new chapter.
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