In the Southern Hemisphere

In all honesty, this is the longest time I have ever spent trying to pen my ideas and thoughts because they usually come pretty easily. I want to write a story to share my team with you, but it also has to encompass the struggles we've been through and the pains it took to grow to be knitted enough. So here goes the story of how my leap of faith was caught safely by a team of exceptional individuals I will proudly call 'home' in the southern hemisphere.

I will never forget how the first gust of wind from Sydney felt. I was landing in Australia and meeting Vikum, Harry, and Alex for the first time—having been internet friends for two months by then. The car ride was slightly awkward, and then there were stories of how things took a turn during the conference—we saw the best and worst of each other during the peak of our stress and most vulnerable nights.

I will never forget how the bonds forged stronger in foreign lands for me and them. The humidity is incomparable to Malaysia, and there is the worry and fear of ever-raging motorcycles and rickshaws and the crazy adventures we share in the venue. To be told off by people we look up to, to band together for things we stand for and to put our heads together to try and be better as a team. It all started from those 11 days in India.

I will never forget the pick-up in the wee hours of Melbourne, cold, wet and raging with anticipation. Our story started with all of our moving-in; the little alleyway leading to our apartment seemed unfathomed by then of our future trudging, grumbling, laughing and just as we pulled up in all our heavy suitcases containing our lives. The early parties, the pique as we move in and the journey to brave what was supposed to be the end of winter. Cold Melbourne days, as they call it.

I will never forget the three weeks I spent in my favourite city of all time—the city I can write you prose and poems about—Dear Sydney. The long strolls exploring suburbs, the curiosity as Alex brings his friends into my world, the conversations by the beach, the harbour, the hill, the little cafe in nothingness—they curated one of the best months in my life—as Sydney came alive with flowers and the buzz of early spring.

I will never forget the busy bustling in October; we were brimmed with anticipation of our very first conference, yet as a full team without precedence, wondering what would go right or left in this process. The satisfaction when processes when right, the long haul of work as it takes a toll on friendships, and our conflicts; the fights, the resolution, the healthy picking-up of conversations, knowing to use all the stimulants in debates for the betterment of our entity. We knew what going beyond was to stand for, and we knew how to drive the beyond by the end of it.

I will never forget the surprises as I returned home for a bit. There was a missing piece you filled as I busied myself with daily routines at home; the journey was rushed, the stories were left unfinished, and the friends were met. As I plunge into my confusing seek for a chair for the conference, I volunteered to manage, and as I tirelessly relook into plans for next year as the bigger decision awaits - will any of us finally run to be part of the successing team?

I will never forget the hot, wet summer Christmas and all the weeks that lay bare before it happened. The rush of adrenaline watching every single jigsaw piece fit into the conference we host as a full team, the spark of inspiration and fanatic fun as we bonded with the new generation. We were tired, oh yes, we were; hanging by that thread so finely, but we knew that we needed to give our all for the people who were more than excited to begin. So we did before parting ways to our big time holiday.

I will never forget January; it was a blur as I spent days in my favourite city before flying back to begin the arduous back-to-back tour. The journey across three states in three weeks, delivering sessions and doing my best to churn similar levels of energy for all. I marvel at Jeremy for this because he can continuously do it, and I sometimes bled negativity as I did my best to sustain myself. It's funny to think of it now. When we did it, we kept wondering if it would be worth it, but after it's done and dusted, I guess we'll leave it to what time says.

I will never forget the humid summer in orientation weeks; all the COVID generation in us as we spent our time online, finally relishing them in the physical stalls and conversations with people across different universities and times. We found it difficult, to be frank, to stand there and sustain a pitch, so we marvelled at how the younglings did it. We did find our footing, but it wasn't without many lessons learnt. Even in our roles, there's always much learning and awareness.

I will never forget the bizarre days before I left for home. My biggest regret is that I didn't say a proper goodbye to Vikum, but oh, for the times we did, that one fine night will probably be ingrained in the core memory of my control centre. The surprising tears I shed while I recall the regret, the crazy, crazy, crazy climb and the lack of stars, the truth in moments when we lack sobriety, and the solemn promises and hushed stories. Maybe that is what we needed for friendships like ours, moments where peace is attained through crying our hearts out and moments where our stories reconstruct across one another.

I will never forget how we spent most of the final quarter finding our needed respite. The final conference we properly hosted came and went, the stories fleeting yet brimming (they probably will be jokes and crazy finite, I tell for a long time). When a group of too many young people are gathered in a house for three whole days, and the agenda involves one too many drinks, you know, good times and stories - and maybe a lot of crazy fun will be involved. I'll leave it at that, iykyk.

I will never forget May, my birth month - and the first I spent away from my homeland. It's funny because I have so many firsts in the term. After all, this is probably the first time I spent a whole year (not entirely) away from home. My first solo travelling happened here too, where I spent a whole week on the heart island. I spent most of the weekends travelling by then to see more of what regional (or rural, never got this concept right) Victoria offers. I'll save this as a later story.

I will never forget our official final month. I had a feeling it would pass by super quickly because of the immense pressure we had covering all the restructuring and replannings, and I remember trying my best to feel less suffocated by how the house felt more pressured. We lack time, but we want to do so much. We were tired, but we knew we had to press on. I will miss how we click and clack away on our keyboards next to one another as we prepare to rush out for yet another session or meeting.

Then came July. It started in July and ended in July. I arrived in Sydney on the exact same day—the 26th of June—as I did the year before. Oh, the many full-circle moments I have. The feeling of closing your experience with the person who started it (sort of), the rush of adrenaline as you try your might to remember every single piece of detail that happened and the core memories that kept forming and storing in you. The nights, days; the conversations, tears and laughter; the jokes, the frustrations, tiredness, fights and also, making-up for all the dumb jokes we cracked.

Dearest MC ROOS, I will miss Australia, because you made it so much better than it already is. I will miss Harry bullying us in the house, I will miss Jeremy's random piano sounds, I will miss Vikum telling us his next big joke, I will miss Alex cooking with me, I will miss Alysa's and I's shower chats, I will miss Yike snuggling up to pour our hearts out, and I will miss Duncan's enormous generosity. I can go on and on about the details, but I do want to keep them safe in my little locker, and I am guessing you don't want me to say too much (I swear I'm not yapping, #vault).

Dearest MC ROOS, I will remember our stories. Our little to big fights, petty to generous conversations, fun banter to heated debates, binging and lounging around when we're too dead to think; of course, I will remember how we get ourselves a bit too unhinged. Dearest, dearest MC ROOS, I honestly don't know how to conclude this little essay because sitting here at 2.17 am before I fly is taking a toll on me. Maybe I will end it with a sentence that resonated so much till I bawled my eyes out with Alex earlier;

"We're all travelling through time together every day of our lives. All we can do is do our best to relish this remarkable ride." - Tim Lake, About Time (2013)