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Mine is a typical migrant story. If there is such a thing.
People often imagine migration as a single, life-changing decision: packing up a lifetime of memories, leaving behind family, friends and familiarity to build a better future somewhere else. But that's only the beginning. Once you arrive, every migrant has a unique story as you learn to navigate a new country, unfamiliar systems and a different way of life.
I had lived a very Western life in Asia, so I assumed the transition to Australia would be relatively straightforward. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Australia wasn't difficult because of the language. It was different because of the countless cultural nuances that only reveal themselves when you actually live here. They emerge slowly. In conversations, workplaces, neighbourhoods and everyday interactions. No guidebook can prepare you for them.
Finding work was my first real lesson.
Every employer I met wanted "local experience." It was the classic migrant dilemma: how do you gain local experience if no one will give you your first opportunity? Years of experience, senior roles and professional achievements from overseas suddenly counted for much less.
With time, I came to understand why. Australia genuinely operates differently. Success here isn't just about what you know; it's also about understanding the local workplace and, perhaps more importantly, building relationships. Australia runs on connections forged through school, sport, family and community. Breaking into those circles takes time.
Eventually, I landed my first interview where I sat across two company directors. One of the questions they had for me was which footy team I supported.
"I haven't decided yet," I admitted.
For the next ten minutes they launched into a passionate debate, each insisting their team was clearly superior while enthusiastically dismantling the other's. They interrupted one another, laughed, pointed fingers and argued. I simply sat there wondering whether this was an elaborate interview technique or just another ordinary day in an Australian office.
That interview taught me something no job description ever could. Working in Australia required far more than speaking English. The words were familiar, but the humour, culture and unwritten rules were entirely different. They weren't things you could learn from a book. You had to live them.
A while later, I made what some would have considered a terrible career move.
I left that job for a much lower-paying position at a community centre.
On paper, it looked like a step backwards. Friends and family in Asia would probably have been horrified. In many parts of Asia, your profession and status are deeply tied to your identity and success.
In reality, it became one of the best decisions I ever made.
I wanted to immerse myself in Australian life, and the community centre gave me exactly that.
Every day brought new conversations. High profile lawyers sat beside tradies. Young and older parents chatted over coffee while their children played nearby. Groups of retirees gathered each week, filling the room with laughter and stories. Volunteers, students, professionals and newly arrived migrants all walked through those doors.
It was Australia in miniature.
I learned more about this country there than I ever could have in a corporate office.
Even the English language continued to surprise me.
The first time someone cheerfully asked, "How are you going?", I wasn't quite sure how to answer. I was only heading to the shops.
Eventually I realised they were simply asking how I was.
Not long afterwards, someone asked me, "How are you travelling?" By then I'd become a little wiser and resisted the urge to explain my mode of transport.
Those small moments made me smile, but they also reminded me that belonging isn't built through big milestones. It's built through hundreds of tiny moments when confusion gradually becomes familiarity.
Australia has a quiet way of changing you.
It isn't just about learning the slang or choosing a footy team. It's about understanding the values beneath the surface—fairness, resilience, humility, mateship and giving people a fair go.
Trust isn't given quickly here, but once you've earned it, those relationships are genuine and enduring.
If you're willing to put in the hard yakka, Australia has a remarkable way of rewarding the effort.
Many migrants, even after decades here, still wonder what life might have been like had they stayed home.
For me, this is home.
The place where I can have an avo in the arvo, chuck a U-ey to the servo on a Macca's run in my thongs.
