Highways and byways

So what’s it actually like living on this little planet? These are my observations over the past rotations of the moon, and I hope they will if not inspire, at least encourage and give a bit of hope to those battling to find a place they can call home.

Living in one city is pretty much like living in any other city anywhere in the world. On the New Planet though, there’s a whole lot less place to park my craft. Luckily for me, I get to move to a rural area and heartily recommend this to anyone contemplating the move. Okay, I won’t get paid as much as I was in The Great Capital City, but it’s cheaper to live in a small market town or village and there’s something to be said for waking up to the lowing of cattle and the stench….I mean aroma... of animals, instead of hooting taxis and traffic that continues all through the night.

Hordes of travellers from diverse planets, most speaking an unintelligable tongue,rush about the tiny planet and this traffic continues to make me catch my breath. Even after these many rotations of the moon, I still find myself in awe at the chaos that can ensure from something as simple as one traveller applying the brakes to his craft, without warning, causing the river behind him to slow down, then stop, thus creating one immense parking space on one of the byways.

This Planet truly is a green and pleasant land; gorgeous stone cottages and tiny winding lanes bordered by hedges, tulips blooming on every verge, roundabout and roadside in the spring and the long hot evenings in the summer (although there are some Natives who declare that summer has been ghastly this year). Now, quaint though these winding lanes are, they are no fun to drive down in the pitch dark. I almost have a heart attack one afternoon when a many-wheeled vehicle wider than his half of the road, side swipes me and takes my mirror with him.

Most of the New Planet's roads are only wide enough for one craft and if I happen to meet a sluggish farm-making craft, much reversing to find a wider spot occurs. Again, not fun in the dark. Also, if it happens to have rained (which as already established it does fairly regularly) the roads get flooded and I come across a long tailback of craft all trying to turn around and reverse to avoid another craft that is stuck in the water or the mud, of which there is a plentiful supply. This, is not an easy task and unless there is a convenient farm entrance nearby turning is virtually impossible.

So coming unsuspectingly round a bend I encounter a queue of surprisingly calm drivers (unless you’re from the Southernmost Colony in which case you are irate at the delay) I reverse slowly into the nearest convenient farm entrance or dent in a hedge, turn and try to find an alternative route to my destination. You can imagine the joy of driving down these tiny lanes when it has snowed and the road is icy. Many a merry motorist has ended up in a hedge or in a field full of cows, having skidded on a frozen puddle or black ice.

Picture the road to your nearest large metropolis in peak hour in the midst of a taxi blockade…this would be an average day on one of the New Planet's Motorways. Yes, I kid I not, this is a TINY island and EVERYONE has a craft of some kind and drives it (not always as politely as one would suspect) on the motorway. Peak hour is a nightmare and best avoided if at all possible. A traveller can spend 3 hours doing a ten minute journey. AND, wherever I go they are digging up the road. There are road works everywhere. I have never seen so many little orange cones in my life. Someone somewhere is getting very very rich. So, I in my infinite wisdom prefer the simple roads, floods, muds, tractors and all.

A new tribe

The day finally dawns when I stop referring to the Southernmost Galaxy as home and this is when the real settling in has begun. After a specified period of time I take myself and my nearest and dearest off to an official ritual where I am inducted into a brand new tribe, am asked to swear an oath of allegiance to this new tribe and its ruler and a few days later receive in the post a sparkling new Cross Galaxy Nomad Permit. This puce coloured one will allow me considerably more freedom in moving around the galaxy than my previous one.

I have taken much advantage of this liberty, exploring new planets as often as possible and each time am thrilled to pass through the Portation Gateways with barely a hiccup as I flash the maroon book at sleepy men manning the entry points to these planets. I even smile smugly as those that still hold the Green Mamba Permit wait in endless lines, fidgeting anxiously in case they are refused entry and sent back to the Southernmost Colony in disgrace. And even though this once happened to me (another entire epistle entirely) I still breath a sigh of relief at being able to do so much travelling with so little trauma.

I stop feeling like an alien and begin to call myself an immigrant! It’s certainly an adventure and it takes a very long time before I adjust, some people never do, but that’s why they invented spacecraft.

The sun will come out...

To my relief (and amazement after a long dark period), one day the clouds lift, I realise the sun does shine and I start to adjust, which is the longest phase. I find myself adapting every day and yet few days go by without my thinking or saying something about how it was “back in the colony on the Southernmost tip of the galaxy”.

I begin to look and feel like a New Planetarian, I dress the way they do, (although I draw a line at pink velour tracksuits, enormous silver hoop earrings and a belly button ring) I start to use colloquialisms, innit? At first I am unlucky enough (in my opinion) to be stuck in The Great Capital City but I master the supersonic underground transportation pod, start calling it the “Tube”, and begin to hate it like a true Native. I learn how to make polite conversation with strangers by instantly talking about the weather, I learn to queue...at the bus stop, at the supermarket, at the doctor’s surgery, on a hospital waiting list, outside a stadium in the pouring rain en route to a footy match or musical gig. And I do it without complaining (much).

I look the part, I’ve got the jargon down pat, I’ve mastered the system and yet as soon as I open my mouth I identify myself as an alien from another planet. I wonder if anyone ever truly feels part of their new planet, when their accent (unless an alien has the ability to change it like a certain blonde Amazon across the waters does) will always give them away.

No place like home?

There are definite phases all new arrivals to the planet must endure. First off there is the elation and excitement when everything is new, everything is better, the public transport system is amazing, the postal service works, the telecast transmissions are stupendous, there are places to go and things to see, “stuff” seems so much more accessible to everyone, other garlic munching planets are only a hop, skip and a jump across 22 miles of watery cosmos, summers are really hot and the suns do shine from time to time, life is great in the land of plenty and then suddenly one day I wake and realise what I’ve done.

Reality strikes and the realisation of how different it all is leads to depression, where everything is wrong, the weather is dreadful, nothing is like home, the skies are overcast and soggy, I miss my family and friends, the weather is appalling, the natives aren’t that friendly and behave like foreigners, the suns only shine a few hours a day until the great deluge begins once more, no one in The Great Capital City speaks the lingo that it invented, the weather is pretty grim most of the time when it isn’t pouring and all I want to do is book my ticket, get on the next spacecraft and leave this soggy planet forever.

Many aliens give up at this point and return to the Southernmost Colony wiser but sadder. Others press through the dark days with the help of friendly Natives (and there are lots of these I discover) or the odd 500 000 other Southernmost Colony beings that live on this planet and I am happy to report that this is what I do.
For those planning on taking the journey or those newly arrived, it is a good idea to still mix with those of your home colony, as they understand the difficulties and challenges you faced daily. Equally important though, is that you mix with the Natives as it is only by doing this that you will fully integrate and stop looking back. A word of warning, you will occasionally come upon Natives that will try to take you to task for the not so distant policies of the authorities upon your previous planet. National guilt may even raise its nasty head, but once you have assured 'them' that you played no part in the evil machinations of the then-government and that you too abhor the system you grew up in, they will leave you alone to continue fitting in...hopefully.

And this is when the hard work really begins...

Newly hatched at Heathrow

Something most newcomers find extremely difficult, not to mention frustrating and demoralising, is that of finding the right job. There is plenty of work out there and something I learn the hard way, is to put my pride in my pocket and get a job, any job, even if it’s not the kind I would ever have considered doing in the Southernmost Colony. Just getting in to the system can be a nightmare.

I am treated as though my life before never existed. Whatever I did and achieved and my years of experience in different fields on the other side of the universe, count for nothing here. Prospective employers have never have heard of the corporation I worked for before. Unless my Didactic Diploma was obtained here, it counts for nothing. Perhaps you were a well thought of pedagogue on the home planet, here you will find yourself considered an ‘unskilled educator’. Even if you were the Managing Director of an Interplanetary-Conglomerate and brought in millions each month, you will still be treated as though you served food and beverage in the office canteen. I learn quickly that despite the fact that I was at the top of my game and a Most Highly Thought of Being in my field, I have to be prepared to start again.

Now obviously, there are those who instantly find the job of their dreams and do not experience the newly hatched chicklet feeling. I’m very happy for them and I’m not bitter. Really I’m not. No, really, I’m not. This piece of wisdom is for those, like me, who have a nightmare of a time finding gainful employment where their skills and experience are appreciated.

My advice to prospective space travellers and those recently arrived on this planet is this; just do whatever you can till you find that perfect position. And yes, that just might mean doing a job you consider only suitable for “Previously Deprived Aliens”.

Consider working as Public Sanitation Technician, Family Environs Upkeep Manager, Transparent Wall Technician, Refreshments Overseer, Theft Prevention and Surveillance Officer or Wealth Distribution Prevention Officer …all perfectly acceptable and done by nice normal people like you and I.

And this is what I do, I take up the unenviable job of being an Alternative Pedagogue, which though soul destroying, does provide a good wage (I suspect most of it is danger pay), which enables me to accommodate and nourish myself till I find a place of employment where I am appreciated and not abused and/or threatened by adolescent and undeveloped Natives.

So you didn’t picture doing “something like that” on the New Planet? My advice? Get over it, roll up your sleeves and get stuck in. It doesn’t have to be forever...

The rant continues...

Part of fitting in as an Interplanetary Wayfarer means turning your back on what you left behind. You may have had a large dwelling with twenty four boudoirs, a study, a pool, a driveway with actual parking space, a huge estate, an obedient lackey and any number of subservient minions, but you’re not going to have that here…not unless you are lucky enough to be loaded. Dwellings are small, gardens are smaller, the New Planet is tiny and bulging at the seams. Space is at a premium and you may feel decidedly cramped for a long time.

The stark fact of cross galaxy migration is this; fitting in requires effort and compromise, mainly from me. They know how things work and if I don’t, I’d better find out quickly, as ignorance is not considered a defence. If I don’t know, I should ask. This though, raises another problem. I have discovered to my chagrin and some annoyance that asking too many questions makes me look incompetent, so it is vital that I quickly learn the art of observation.

I begin to observe everyone (in a non-stalker way of course) and take on board how they do things, say things and operate. Watching people is an essential skill in surviving the cross galaxy migration process, and I continue to do so every day.

A little rant...

When a being grows up in a system, he simply thinks that’s the way it should be. So to a New Planetarian, who has grown up with an efficient and functioning state of governance, it can be hard to understand a newly arrived alien going on about all the red tape and not realising the importance of doing things strictly according to the book. It’s hard to explain exactly why the way things get done seems so pernickety and officious.

But it’s something I get used to and begin to appreciate eventually. Once I have figured out “the system”, I realise that it works. One thing the New Planetarians do very well is run my life for me. Getting on the wrong side of the system, is not clever.

My point of view is this, and forgive me as I rant a while, if I’m going to go and live on a foreign planet on the other side of the Galaxy, and believe me the New Planet is foreign even if they do (sort of) speak the same language, it’s no good expecting things to be like they were at home. You can’t come and live on the New Planet and still expect to live under the laws of the Southernmost Colony. If driving like a lunatic while in command of an unroadworthy all terrain vehicle was acceptable in the Colony, it’s not acceptable here.

Nothing riles me more than those beings that have crossed the Galaxy to make a new home on this planet, and then completely disregard the way things are done here. Generally, this is a law-abiding society and if you can’t hack the law and can’t be bothered to obey, get on your spacecraft and go home.