Perth, Western Australia

“What country are you from?” is inevitably the first question my students ask. I teach English as a second language, and have lived and worked in Japan and Slovakia over the last few years. “I’m from Australia,” I answer proudly. Then the guessing game begins. “Are you from Sydney?” one will ask. “Melbourne?” one will add when I shake my head. “Maybe Canberra?” a geography-whiz might ask. And I shake my head again. I sketch a map on the whiteboard, drawing dots all down the east coast to illustrate the cities they’ve named. Then I slowly drag my pen all the way across the middle of the country, to the west coast, and make a big spot towards the bottom left of the map, marking it with a capital P. Only then will someone occasionally name my hometown.

Perth is the fourth largest city in Australia, but it’s several massive deserts away from the well-known cities. I’m very happy to call it my hometown and even happier to have a chance to tell my students all about it. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to give them quite what they want, a snapshot of Perth which gives them a famous monument to connect to, something they can easily recognise. I usually start with the oft-quoted “Perth is the most isolated city in the world”. This phrase is always accompanied by some kind of disclaimer, because there’s no standardised measure of isolation; for me, it’s isolated because if you want to travel anywhere in the world from Perth, it’s incredibly expensive and it takes a long time. To the west, we have a marathon swim through the Indian Ocean to reach land – Asia to the north and Africa to the west. To the east, it’s a desert trek through the odd small country town and an otherwise constant emptiness, reaching the smaller city of Adelaide after two solid driving days, or Melbourne or Sydney another exhausting day later.

Of course, air travel saves us. When time allows – for the Japanese – and money allows – for the Slovaks – my students can one day visit me in Perth. I’ll take Keiko and Masako to Kings Park, the grassed and bushy hills in the centre of the city. The postcard view of Perth is seen from here – the Swan River, looking more like a lake, gently separating the two sides of the city, and roads on land reclaimed from swamps taking the traffic in front of the neat skyscrapers of the city centre. When six-year-old Shigekazu’s family comes to stay, we’ll visit Cohunu Wildlife Park, where we can walk around with the kangaroos and wallabies – I already know Shige will be jumping, not walking – and finish the day hugging a koala, keeping a good eye on its sharp claws. With Janka I’ll enjoy the café strips of Fremantle or Leederville. Multi-cultural Australia has had some of its best influences here, and we’ll struggle to choose between great food from most parts of the world, and probably settle on “just a coffee” at a small, locally-owned coffee house with unique and tasty cakes. Miroslav will probably come with me on a weekend trip to Rottnest, the tiny car-free island just half an hour by boat from Perth. “Rotto” is a real treasure, with aquarium-clear water at soft sandy beaches; an island which is a fond feature in the memory of anyone who’s grown up in Perth.

When my students go back to their own hometowns, I’m not sure exactly what image of Perth they’ll share with their friends and family. Some might speak of the sunny climate, and others of the strange animals. In Japan, they’ll surely comment on the low cost of living. While Sydney might be the Opera House or Harbour Bridge to many people, Perth is something different to everyone who stops by. And for those of us lucky enough to call it our birthplace, it’s like a loving parent we will always return to.

Amanda K

Submitted: Saturday 28th February 2004, 6:36 AM

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