How I Got Here

The fall of 2006 I began my senior year at University of Maine Farmington, as a history major. The previous year I had happened upon the memoirs of a few American men transported by the British to Tasmania as criminals for participating in the Canadian Rebellion in 1838. I chose that as the topic of my capstone project. My advisor, Dr. Ken Orosz, himself a Fulbright alum, suggested I consider applying for a Fulbright Scholarship to Australia.

The Fulbright program, through the U.S. Department of State, provides the opportunity for Americans to travel to other countries and citizens of those other countries to travel to the U.S. It allows for professional and academic research and cultural exchange. For more information, go to http://us.fulbrightonline.org/home.html.

I discovered that the Archives Office of Tasmania holds the convict records, and that Dr. Hamish Maxwell-Stewart, co-author of a book on these men, teaches at the University of Tasmania. Hobart, the capital of Tasmania, was clearly the place I wanted to be. After Dr. Maxwell-Stewart agreed to work with me should I be granted a scholarship, I began the long application process. By October I had mailed the application and tried not to spend too much time wondering about it.

In March of 2007 I was informed that I had been selected as an alternate Fulbright Scholar. I didn’t hear further news, so started my graduate studies at the University of Maine in September. It was the same month when I found out that I would be able to go because more funding was available, and my flurry of preparations began.

I landed in Hobart the afternoon of February 21, and will be in Australia until November 17. This is the Australian academic year. The University of Tasmania is generously letting me audit a course each semester; this semester I’m enjoying Historical Indigenous Australia. Most of my time will be spent in Hobart, but I’ll also be travelling around Tasmania and making two or three trips to mainland Australia. (Anyone unfamiliar with Australian geography can look at http://www.aus-emaps.com/ to familiarize themselves.)

There are days, and moments, when this all seems a bit surreal. For instance, I sat down on a bench in Franklin Square and looked at the statue of Sir John Franklin. Best known for his polar expeditions, Franklin spent a few years as the lieutenant governor of Van Diemen’s Land (the former name of Tasmania). The American men who I am here to study arrived when Franklin was in charge, and in their memoirs vilified him. Franklin’s statue has graceful water fountains around it that cascade inwards, drawing the eyes of passers-by to his aristocratic pose. The statue clearly indicates that Franklin was a man worthy of respect. Then, starting on the top of his head and dripping down his forehead, are trails of bird poop. I found it amusing, and like to think that the American convicts would also have appreciated the irony.

When I started that application process a year and a half ago in Farmington, I never could have imagined this. It really is a dream come true.

The Beginning

I expected the Southern Cross to stand straight, dominating the night sky. After all, that’s how it looks on the Australian flag and the emblem of the Australian national cricket team. Instead, it tilts at an angle I suppose is about forty-five degrees, five stars among a band liberally peppered with stars. Not being blessed with especially good vision, I can’t even see the dimmest star.

And yet, in its leaning, not-entirely-obvious way, the Southern Cross transfixed me. When it was first pointed out to me, I admit to a bit of disappointment. “That’s it?” I thought. Still, I kept looking back up at it. Those four points do make an admirably neat cross. To tell the whole truth, I spent so much time looking at the sky while walking that I very nearly tripped and fell flat on my face. A week later, the magic hasn’t completely faded from the Southern Cross. It wasn’t what I expected, but it is captivating.

This, I realized, is a bit of a metaphor for my experience so far. Expectations are tricky things, and many things have not been what I pictured when I was home in Maine. Most things, however, have been positive in the final analysis.

For another example, let me tell you about cricket. Or, as Australians call it, “the cricket.” This is not a small chirping bug, but rather a sport. The closest sport I can equate it to is baseball, but aside from swinging a bat at a ball, cricket has little in common with baseball. Originally cricket games lasted five days, but shorter matches lasting one day are now more prevalent. Considering that, it’s no surprise that cricket is known for boring Americans into a stupor.

It came as quite a shock to me, then, when I realized I quite like cricket. Cricket players have a unique way of being tough. Their endurance is something to watch – good batsmen may be up for over an hour! Even the rules, which are too complex for me to attempt to outline, started to make sense to me. The skilled players are, I found, really enjoyable to watch. I felt a bit let down when I learned that cricket season is almost over.

This great adventure of mine has started so wonderfully. I’ve had shrimp on pizza, although shrimp are called prawns here. Once I got over my astonishment about the combination, it proved delicious. I’ve seen a whole flock of white cockatoos flitting from tree to tree, making a terrific racket in the fading twilight as they do acrobatics on tree limbs. I’ve seen a wallaby fairly close to me, the black tips on its nose, tail, and front paws making it look as though it recently played in ink.

I can’t wait to experience what happens next!