As I stand at the station in Melbourne, Australia, waiting to catch the train to work, listening to my French language lessons on my phone (oh yes, I’m keeping at it, and slowly… very slowly I have to admit… it’s starting to sink in), I reflect on how strange it is that our ‘real’ life is on the other side of the world.
Even though we normally spend more time in Australia, it’s really only a means to an end… that is, getting back to France.
Don’t get me wrong, Australia is a great country and has got so much to offer. The climate, the amazing and diverse native flora, fauna, landscape and beaches. The people, the lifestyle, the freedom, the opportunities. It really is the lucky country.
And yet we would rather be back in France – permanently if we could. There’s just something that draws us there (and so many others it seems – have you ever noticed how often France is mentioned or featured in movies?), and we feel very blessed to own a house there. Somehow, the moment we arrive in France, we feel like we’re home.
On the up side, it’s lovely to be able to spend time with family when in Oz and also pursue some the of things that we don’t get to do in France (where we are always busy either renovating or travelling) like karaoke, the gym, even slogging it out at our jobs.
Maybe it’s not so much about which is our “real life” but that we have 2 distinctly different lives. How lucky are we?