Australia: between dream and illusion

 

A blast of wind sweeps away the dark clouds above Melbourne, and the Southern Cross finally shows up lighting up the south celestial pole. In the silence of the night, the sound of a few young voices is easily audible, but their accent is weird. Actually, it is not even English but a rhythmic and melodic language that sounds like a singsong.

“Buon appetito!” the guys say in unison.

On the dining table in the backyard of the house, every plate is full to the brim with “spaghetti alla carbonara”, while red wine fills up the glasses. Although Eleonora, Luca and Guendalina are far away from their country, a homely atmosphere inundates their dinner.

Since the economic woes hit Europe a few years ago, more and more Italians have said “ciao” to their “beautiful country” looking abroad for better opportunities. The Italian Government seems to have lost count, and it has not yet released any official data on this new migration flow. However, Australians have been counting and the statistics are meaningful.

According to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, in the last couple of years more than 60,000 Italians have flown down-under to get in the “lucky country”. Between 2006 and 2011 there has been an increase of 80 per cent of Italians under a working visa, while the number of youth, between 18 and 30 years of age, has grown of 120 per cent.

Magica Fossati, SBS journalist who has recently analysed this issue in an insightful radio documentary Bye bye Italy: from austerity to Australia, explains that the statistics only partly reflect the reality.

“It is not only a reticence of the Italian Government, there is also an objective problem. Most of the people who leave Italy don’t register for the A.I.R.E. (the general register office of Italians living abroad) or they do it after many years,” Ms Fossati points out.

After the publication of her documentary, Ms Fossati has kept looking at this new wave of Italian migration through her radio programme Australia: operating instructions, where she conducts various interviews to investigate this phenomenon.

“It cannot be considered a exodus, such as the first wave of Italian migration during the 1950s and 1960s, because the numbers are not that high yet. It’s not even a simple brain drain, because it is a very assorted flow with many qualified professionals migrating – such as chefs, plumbers and workers,” Ms Fossati points out.

“It will take some time to be able to compare Italian and Australian data and to understand, quantitatively and qualitatively, what kind of migration is underway.”

In the mean time, however, Italians keep leaving their homeland. After all, a country where the unemployment rate has recently reached eleven per cent, with some worrying figures among youth (38 per cent) and women (12 per cent), does not seem to offer many other options.

After the birth of his son, Luca had no alternatives at all. In Rome, he had worked underpaid for four years for two different airline companies, always under part-time contracts of three months.

“After every three-month contract I used to get fired automatically, they paid me the severance tax the following month, and then I had to wait for them to call me again under another temporary contract, and so forth…for four years,” he says.

Moreover, loading and unloading myriad of luggage at the airport for 8 -10 hours a day caused Luca a serious back injury. Unable to lift weight thenceforth and with a family to take care of, the 28-year-old father lost his only job.

However, Luca had an ace in the hole. His mother was born and raised in Australia by Italian parents, who had migrated overseas in the 1950s. As soon as he knew he could apply for Australian citizenship, Luca did not think about it twice. Six months later, he got his fresh passport and took the most radical and courageous decision of his life: leave temporarily his family in Italy to try to build a better future for his son.

“It was a tough choice because William was only 9 months, but I did it for him. If I were by myself, I probably would have stayed in Italy. If you are alone you can go on with casual works, but it’s impossible when you have to take care of a family. I could have stayed at my mother’s place, but I wanted to have my own house for my own family, you know. I couldn’t have it in Italy, so I had no other choice but Australia. My plan was to find a house and a job within one year to be able to bring my family here with me,” Luca says.

With a tattoo picturing William on his left arm and a mission in his mind, Luca arrived in Melbourne on September last year. Just a few days after his feet touched the Australian soil, he was able to find a job at a car wash in Coburg. However, the pay was bad and the cars to wash too many. Two months later, he left the job and started working at an Italian restaurant as a kitchen-hand. Despite there Luca does not earn that much and the dishes to wash are even more than the cars at Coburg, this new job allowed him to find a good house and get ready to welcome his family.

“I don’t want to spend my life working in a kitchen, I came here to find something else…this is a launching pad! When I come back with my son and my girlfriend, I will look for a better job that allows me to work 8 hours per day for 5 days a week, and I’ll keep the one at the restaurant for the weekends,” he says energetically.  His resolution is vivid in his eyes.

Luca accomplished his mission, but his Australian passport has definitively facilitated his experience as immigrant. The reality is that most of the people who choose the “sunburnt country” as destination have to go through different, and often complex, procedures. Youth, between 18 and 30 years old, still have a big opportunity being able to apply for the famous working holiday visa, which allows them to travel and legally work in Australia up to twelve months.

However, Ms Fossati explains that the increase in the migration flow among youth is not due to more backpackers travelling around Australia for a gap year.

“I met much more people that came here with a working holiday visa because it is easy to obtain, but they get here resolute. Considering the situation in Italy, they think it is a great chance, so they find soon a job and they start creating a network of professional contacts,” Ms Fossati says.

Moreover, many young people decide to lend support to Australian local economies working in the agriculture sector for three months in order to gain a second working holiday visa, extending their stay for other 12 months.

“Many guys are doing things they wouldn’t in Italy, because there they might be considered humble and underpaid jobs. But in Australia, the pay is generally very good and, most of all, there is the feeling they are a sort of trampolines,” Ms Fossati says.

After four years of work at a prestigious restaurant in London, Eleonora decided to have a gap year and leave England. Australia seemed to be the most attractive destination for backpacking with her best friend, and obtaining a working holiday visa took her not more than half an hour online and a few hundreds dollars. A couple of months later, the two Italian friends left their small village near Florence to fly to Sydney, the first stage of their adventure.

In Sydney, Eleonora worked hard managing three different jobs that allowed her to save some money to travel along the East Coast in the following months. Later, she arrived in Melbourne with the same backpacker’s mentality: work hard, save money, and then travel. However, in a few weeks everything changed.

“I found a job as waitress at Bistro Vue in Melbourne CBD, which is a highly recognised French restaurant in Australia and around the world. So I started looking at things differently, because that place could give me a very good professional opportunity,” she explains.

The idea of coming back to Italy in a few months did not excite Eleonora as much as the possibility to stay in Melbourne. Before the expiry of her working holiday visa on September last year, Eleonora decided to ask the company for the sponsorship. Considering the young Italian girl as an important member of the staff, the restaurant’s manager was happy to sponsor her, and a few months later she obtained a four-year working visa (457 visa).

“I was lucky with the sponsorship, but I know that many people are still waiting to get the visa, while others are lost in trying to get the necessary certified documents – such as diploma, birth certificate, reference letters, criminal record, and so on,” she explains.

In Eleonora’s mind the plan was to get further work experience and save as much money as possible. Despite she has a golden opportunity to stay in Australia longer by obtaining the permanent residency in a couple of years, she is still uncertain about her future.

“I’ve never thought to settle here… it’s too far away from home. If Australia were in place of France or Spain, I wouldn’t have any doubt, because I live well, everybody lives well here, but I want to be closer to home. Thanks to the money I’ve saved with the job at the restaurant, I will be able to come back in Europe, maybe in London, to study and realise my dream to be a gastronomic journalist,” Eleonora points out with a spark in her eyes.

Unlike Luca and Eleonora, Salvatore was just 14 when he left with his mother a village near Syracuse, in Sicily, after the death of his father. In 1963, there were not intercontinental flights, so mother and son had to travel by ship, leaving behind their back the familiar Mediterranean Sea to cross the vast Indian Ocean, before docking in Port of Melbourne 27 days later.

Salvatore explains that in those days things were very different, with the Australian Government actively campaigning in Italy by handing out fliers that described the wonders of Australia, in order to attract Italians to move overseas.

“When I came here, there wasn’t a complicated system like today. I simply got a visa in Syracuse before my departure, and after a few years in Australia I automatically obtained the citizenship,” Sam says.

The Australian social and cultural context was very different, and being Italian was not easy at all. The life was tougher and the work harder. Moreover, there was discrimination towards Italians, because Australians were scared to lose their jobs. Somehow, this seems to be the same fear that many people in the Italian community are feeling towards the new wave of Italian migration to Australia.

“It’s not discrimination, but all these young people from Europe come to work here for just a few months or a year, depriving opportunities and jobs to local residents,” Salvatore says blaming the working holiday system.

“I don’t like it at all, I’ve never liked it! In my opinion, you have to come here as a tourist or as a permanent immigrant.”

However, today times have changed and moving to Australia is not easy as it was for Salvatore. The government does not need to convince people to migrate anymore, indeed it created complicated and tight procedures to control and select the flow of migration. Last year, a new legislation introduced the Skill Select, an online service that enables skilled workers and business people interested in migrating to Australia to record their details to be considered for a skilled visa through an expression of interest. This and other tools were created to ensure that the skilled migration program is based on Australia’s economic needs.

The problem is that most of the people are not familiar with the many cavils and peculiarities of the legislation. Guendalina, a 32 year-old girl from a small village near Alessandria, in Piedmont, came to Melbourne four years ago to attend a PhD in Italian Studies at Monash University. As a postgraduate student, she expected to get some useful information about her chance to stay and find a job in Australia through the university services.

“I went to a couple of meetings at Monash, but there I had the feeling that the agent from the Immigration Office conveyed a clear message to all the international students: ‘you came here for studying, and when your study is over you can go back home’,” she admits letting out a pinch of anger in her voice.

“I could not ask any question about my specific case, so I thought I did not have any chance to stay in Australia after the end of my PhD.”

Lost in the websites and in the hundreds different kinds of visa, Guendalina decided to contact a migration agent as last resort. Just then, she found out that thanks to her PhD, she could apply for a skilled nominated visa (190 visa).

“Here it was, but who knew it? Now, step by step, I have to see if all the documents are fine, if the working experience is valid, etcetera…I’ll try, then we’ll see,” she says.

In order to try at least, Guendalina might spend up to $10,000 in visa application, documents, medical exams, skills recognition, and migration agent. On the top of that, she will have to prove that she has at least $30,000 on her bank balance.

“You know, sometimes I ask myself if it is really worth it,” she sadly admits.

The myth of Australia as a place where it is easy to migrate has been surely amplified by the Italian media, which have portrayed Australia as a sort of El Dorado that is easily accessible to everyone. The Internet also has played his role, with the proliferation of blogs and forum about Australia.

Willing to share his experience as immigrant and give advice to his “followers”, Aldo Mencaraglia started his blog Italiansinfuga in 2008. In the last couple of years, he saw an increase of people looking and asking for information regarding Australia, and also realised there was a deceptive idea of it.

“The thing that strikes me the most is that most of the people look at Australia as a paradise, the Promised Land, without being aware of the many hindrances they would have to face,” Mr Mencaraglia admits.

However, despite their different background and experience, Eleonora, Luca and Guendalina share the same view: Australia as the place to be, a meritocratic society that can pay them back for hard work and sacrifice. This is something that in Italy now is difficult even to dream.

 

 

 

 

 

Note:

*The category “Total Temporary Entrants” includes mainly temporary residents (long-stay business, working holiday makers, and occupational trainee visa subclass), students, and visitors.

*”Italians in Australia” includes only working holiday makers (417 visa) and long-stay business (457 visa).

 

“Time out”

It’s 5.30 a.m.

The forest is still dark. In the calmness of nature, a dozen of drowsy barefooted people walk in the meditation room. Next to the door, different kinds of shoes and sandals are neatly arranged on a handmade wooden shoe rack. Inside, a wood stove warms the morning sharp air. Next to a sitar, a candle is lit under a portrait of Swami Satyananda. The silence is powerful and overwhelming. Participants are wrapped up in big woollen blankets, and sit on purple-red cushions in the lotus position: back straight, legs crossed, hands on the knees with index fingers touching the thumbs. Their eyes are closed. Mouna, the vow of silence from dawn to dusk, reigns undisturbed over the Satyananda Yoga Ashram, nestled within the depth and quietness of the Wombat State Forrest near Daylesford, Victoria.

Atma, an elder yogini (a female yoga practitioner) wearing a cotton orange tunic, greets the guests joining gently her hands. “Hari Om!” Her low and soft voice breaks the vast silence. Above her head, rays of sunshine softly pierce the stained glass window.

It’s 7.00 a.m.

The morning mantra chanting follows the yoga session. The very interesting aspect of these chants is they are written in Sanskrit, the ancient language of India, which was formed with all the different sounds which human voice can make. For this reason, according to yoga, mantra is a particular combination of sound vibrations with powerful and beneficial effects on all levels of our being.

Thirty minutes later, the relaxed and hungry group silently get out of the meditation room to have breakfast. Two yogini, wearing green aprons and hairnets, serve English porridge, fresh fruits, and different kinds of tea.

The rest of the morning is dedicated to karma yoga activities around the property. This work practice consists of several chores, such as scrubbing toilets, raking leaves, cropping blackberries, or any other tasks that are necessary and useful to the community.

Every morning, a roster of names is hung up next to the reception, and everyone has daily task. Melanie, who is a police officer in Melbourne, is assigned to the kitchen garden, where residents cultivate different varieties of vegetables and spices. “All the healthy meals in the ashram are strictly vegetarian and are generally prepared with locally grown greengroceries and organic products,” she explains with a bright smile.

At a short distance, Thiago, a 31-years-old Portuguese designer who has recently travelled across South-East Asia, is engaged in cropping weed by the lakeside. “In our ordinary lives, activities such as household tasks are considered unpleasant and are usually performed in a hasty and careless way,” he says trimming a huge blackberry bush. “In the ashram, instead, these are viewed as an important form of meditation.” The purpose, in fact, is to revalue the aspects of a simple life developing concentration, awareness, and acceptance.

In the afternoon, there is also some free time, which can be spent by exploring the numerous forest walking or bike riding tracks, engaging with other residents, visiting the ashram’s library, or participating in workshops and seminars on topics such as “Yoga: Tools for Everyday Life”.

The interesting aspect about yoga is that everybody seems to know what is about: it is the fashionable stuff which movie stars are doing nowadays to keep themselves thin and fit, isn’t it? Not really. Yoga is much more. It is an ancient Indian system of philosophy, lifestyle and techniques, which aims at evolving the person through several healthy principles. Yoga is generally defined as a set of practices or techniques to promote physical fitness, mental clarity, stress management and general well being. Nevertheless, spirituality remains a strong underlying theme.

Perhaps what is the most unexpected aspect of ashram retreats is that most of the people are not adherent to Hinduism or other Eastern religious practices. They are nonbelievers who are looking for a “time out”.

Despite ashrams have been around for several decades in Western countries, until recently their residents were mainly yoga students or guru’s devotees. Today, our comforting but hasty lives do not give us time to relax, think over, and dedicate to ourselves. For this reason, even those who have had limited interest in Eastern philosophy or yoga increasingly find refuge in ashrams. These peaceful places, situated in forests or mountainous regions as far as possible from human affairs, offer a refreshing return to an uncomplicated and spartan living style in very close contact with nature and its rhythm.

Furthermore, considering the dorm-style rooms are rather basic and the bathroom is shared, it is not an expensive stay (around $60 per night). Travellers would find with difficulty a cheaper accommodation for a few nights.

Although the purpose of ashrams is not to convert visitors to any particular religion or guru and only want to provide peaceful retreats as a getaway, many participants find the experience beneficial enough to come back.

Phil, a 45 years-old engineer from Melbourne, is a frequent guest of Satyananda Yoga Ashram and he finds a visit necessary once in a while. “I come here often, for a couple of days-break,” he says. “It clears my mind and revitalises me with positive energy to cope with my stressful and oppressive life in the city.”

In a world where time is money, it’s usually stress that leads many people to experience a personal retreat. Hundreds of kilometres away from their own problems, fears, and anxieties, those can finally have a refreshing break to recharge mind, body, and spirit.

“Italian spirit” on Lygon St still alive

It’s a usual Saturday night on “Borsari’s Corner”. Santino Trimboli, a tall white-haired Sicilian man constantly handing out business cards, entertains potential “walking customers” with his unmistakable Italian accent. Meanwhile, a young French waiter balances three inviting dishes dancing among the perpetual flow of people strolling along the footpath.

The multi-coloured neon sign, which was erected in the late 1940s in honour of Nino Borsari, still towers over the intersection of Lygon Street and Grattan Street illuminating the heart of Melbourne’s “Little Italy”. Here, Borsari Ristorante has proudly stood for 18 years, keeping the Italian spirit alive.

Stepping through the door of the restaurant, I get the impression that someone has turned back the clock. The atmosphere reminds me of a classic, old-style Italian restaurant: formal, but welcoming. The soft and melodic sound of Boccelli’s voice spreads around the room, and unforgettable memories of my childhood in Verona resurface at lightening speed, making me homesick for a moment.

Santino’s steady voice brings me down to earth.

“Sam, un tavolo per il ragazzo. Grazie!” he calls to a short and stocky waiter wearing a tight black waistcoat over a white shirt.

Despite his Aussie accent and his nickname, Salvatore (Sam) is purely Italian. He migrated from Sicily to Melbourne 50 years ago after his father’s death.

“At the time, there wasn’t Emirates. I had to travel by ship for 28 days to get to this remote country,” he tells me stressing his spirit of adventure.

It’s 9pm and the restaurant is full. Many different people are enjoying their Saturday night in one of the most popular restaurants on Lygon St. In one corner of the room, a Chinese family is having a huge feast. Three different pasta dishes overwhelm the round table: fettuccine, penne, and gnocchi. Next to it, an elderly Australian couple laughs at one of Sam’s jokes.

On the wall, a big white banner of Juventus F.C. – the most successful Italian soccer club – waves slightly under the blowing heater.

Reading the menu, I am pleased to see it offers a variety of Northern Italian and Mediterranean dishes. Among them is my grandma’s speciality: “gnocchi al pesto”, which I order –despite knowing my grandma’s version cannot be beaten.

There are many other Italian entrée and mains – such as the classic “bruschetta” and the creamy “spaghetti alla carbonara”. However, it’s clear that the kitchen offers “fusion cuisine” in order to adjust to more international flavours. I point my finger at the list, where I can see a kind of past I have never heard of before: “fettuccine pappone”, whose main ingredients are chicken, avocado and cream.

The presence of only two Italian reds – Chianti, and Montepulciano d’Abbruzzo –limits the choice of wine. Everything else on the list is mostly Australian and New Zealand.

An elegant Nepalese man, walking briskly among the tables, comes to take my order. Five years ago, when Sudip first walked into Borsari’s, he was employed as dishwasher. Now, he handles four hot dishes and moves gracefully among the tables as he were born to be a waiter.

Looking for the bathroom, I come to a stop as I approach the stairway: several pictures immortalising Nino Borsari and other famous Italian people cover the wall. They form a sort of Borsari’s photograph album. Among the several faces that hypnotise me, I can recognise Maria Grazia Cucinotta, a popular and beautiful Italian actress, as well as many Juventus players. Even a baby Ferrari tracksuit is framed and hung on the wall.

Upstairs, the fragrance of garlic wafts from the small kitchen where one of the chefs rings a noisy bell every time the food is ready to be served. Just next to the kitchen, in a second, smaller room (often used to host private functions), more than 20 people are celebrating a loud birthday. I can barely hear Boccelli’s high notes. Sudip, surrounded by three excited kids, is concentrating on cutting a huge chocolate cake with just one candle on it.

Only after getting back downstairs do I realise how small the bar is. It’s literally wedged under the staircase. The bartender has been overwhelmed by creased pink dockets that have demanded drinks and coffees nonstop since I walked in the restaurant.

After a justifiable wait, Sam heads towards me with a hot and inviting dish. I am ready to test my grandma’s competition. The gnocchi are surprisingly fresh and the pesto is enriched with real “parmigiano”. I am happy to enjoy my first Italian dinner in Melbourne.

After another glass of Chianti and a lovely Espresso, I walk to the counter to pay my costly bill (around $50). I notice that Borsari is still full at almost eleven o’clock. I’m impressed.

“How can a restaurant with such a small kitchen and bar manage a Lygon Street-Saturday night?” I ask to a middle-aged man sitting on a black cushioned chair in front of the cash register.

Frank Trimboli, Santino’s son and Borsari’s manager, does not look surprised at all by my question. “It’s like when a Boing 747 takes off…it looks impossible that such a heavy thing can fly… but, despite the small inevitable turbulences in the rush-hour, we have been running nights like this for almost 20 years,” he says proudly.

Above the counter, Italian soccer highlights follow one after the other on the small screen of an old television. For a moment, I forget where I am.

Santino is in the exact same spot where I found him two hours ago. At closing time, surrounded by the smoke of his Winfield cigarette, he becomes very talkative. He has been watching the life on Lygon Street for 39 years and tells me that “Nino Borsari was a member of the Gold-medal-winning Italian pursuit cycling team at the 1932 Olympics. He was beloved in Australia and was an active member in the local Italian community.”

This is the reason why, in 1994, Santino decided to keep Borsari’s name for his own restaurant.

“It is a tribute to that great man,” he admits fierily.

Robert’s big choice

On the right wing of the pitch, Waverly N.11 stylishly stops the ball with his left wheel almost on the sideline. Hesitation. Double step. The football still sticks close to his left foot, while the opponent tries to tackle him down. Another fake, and Fitzroy N.3 is inexorably dribbled. N.11 softly crosses in the middle to his teammate, who easily scores the consolation goal just before the final whistle. Game over. The scoreboard tells Fitzroy 5 – Waverly 1.

Robert takes his jersey N.11 off and plods out of the pitch with a hanging head. Ten minutes later, he gets out of the locker room with his curly hair still wet, and wearily walks to his car. “I have to go home and study. Tomorrow I have another test,” he murmurs turning his back on the coach.

A year ago, Robert took the most important decision of his life when he decided to leave Italy and attend RMIT University in Melbourne. For the first time, Robert chose study instead of sport. “Even if my mom has always been telling me to give a priority to school, my life was only about soccer,” he admits.

“I was living my dream to become a professional player,” he says.

There is a pause.

His right leg starts shaking, while his voice gets lower.

“But I had no choice after my injury.”

After eight years in Hellas Verona, Robert had his chance to play pro in 2010 when a Pergocrema’s observer selected him. It was the opportunity that the young right wing had been waiting for a while.

“Hellas Verona’s management thought I wasn’t ready to play pro in B- League yet, so they let me go without giving me the chance to show they were wrong,” he explains almost gritting his teeth.

“I felt ready to play pro. I trained so much for it,” he fierily added.

Robert started playing for Hellas Verona when he was twelve. The successful junior club has always been a good channel for young talented players to become professionals. The senior team, in fact, was in Serie A, the Italian professional major league, which is one of the best soccer championships worldwide.

Looking at Robert’s intense glance, his passion and determination suddenly come to the surface. He flips his hair back, while his right leg stops shaking.

“I had training sessions everyday and games on the weekend,” Robert says.

“There was no sacrifice, but devotion.”

However, sometimes the fate is cruel. As soon as Robert joined Pergocrema for a trial in 2010, he started suffering from an annoying groin muscle inflammation.

“I couldn’t train properly for months, so I couldn’t play a hundred per cent,” he says.

Again, the silence overwhelmed the room for a moment. The 22-year-old Italian player clenched his fists.

“I knew it was over,” he stammers.

Because of the groin muscle inflammation, Robert was rejected and his dream shattered.

“That was the most difficult moment of my life, because I knew I had missed the bus and I didn’t know what to do with my life,” he admits.

Elaine, Robert’s mother, always supported him.

“In our family we are all athletes,” she reveals.

“I have always understood his sports commitment”.

However, in her opinion a good scholastic education was mandatory. Under his mother’s pressure, Robert never failed at high school and he also got quite good marks, but his mind was overwhelmed by a only thought: soccer. But that injury and the consequent rejection changed everything.

After a long period when Robert’s mind was bewildered and confused, the young talented right wing decided to hang up his soccer shoes, and to focus on studying as his mom suggested him.

“But I needed a change of scene,” he says standing up from the black leather armchair to get a glass of water.

The biggest decision of his life was taken: RMIT, Melbourne, Australia, sixteen thousand kilometres far away from home and his broken dream.

Robert glances up and starts shaking his right leg again. The big dilemma seems to whirls in his mind for a second time.

“Deep-down, I never renounced my dream,” he admits smiling with his brown eyes.

“But Australian universities are very expensive and I cannot muck around,” he adds.

The pitch of his voice is determined.

Since he arrived in Melbourne, Robert gave a priority to university and work. However, wearing his old soccer shoes again, he rediscovered his will to play.

“When I play I feel better. Especially if I don’t play for a while, when I kick the football again I feel released,” he says showing his contagious smile.

After a two year-break Robert joined Waverly Wanderers, a Melbournian team which plays at amateur level. Despite his university commitments do not allow him to train often, he plays as much as he can. Australian championships are not good as Italian ones, and deep-down Robert keeps alive his dream.

“I’m still 22 and I know I could play at a higher level here in Australia,” he states firmly.

“However, I need to understand if it is possible without jeopardising my university commitments. If I want to play for a VPL (Victorian Premier League) I should train 3-4 times per week as I did when I was younger,” he clarifies.

In his eyes, the determination to live his dream is still shining.

“It would be very hard, but nothing is impossible”.

Skilled migrants’ struggle

An endless queue of multi-coloured cars crawls on Williams Rd. Inside a blue Kia, a middle-aged blond woman with her eyes closed rests for a moment.

The radio is off

While a gentle and fresh wind starts blowing from the ocean, a horn blast Raffaella suddenly to earth. “Every time, it takes me a hour to get home from work,” she says wearily. “But at least now I got a job which I’m qualified for!”

Although Australia is now the world leader in skilled migration – as reported in the Sydney Morning Herald on April 2012 – many qualified foreign workers are forced to work under the table while awaiting sponsorship and a permanent residence visa. “Most of them give up and come back to their country, while others wait for years till they start doing ‘their’ job” Raffaella says.

Since coming to Melbourne two years ago, Raffaella has born the cost of her courageous choice to leave Italy and her job as a marketing manager. She felt the need to start a new chapter of her life.

“I was aware of the risks when I left my country, but I didn’t expect it to be so hard,” she confesses.

Confused by the myriad kinds of visas, Raffaella applied for a 12 months “Temporary Business Visa” so as to find a sponsor. However, she was not allowed to work on a regular contract, and she had to leave the country every three months during that year to renew her visa.

“I had to work under the table. I’m a single mother and I needed money for my children and me,” she admits without shame.

“I worked as a waiter, as a dishwasher… I taught swimming, Italian, and cuisine lessons.”

When finally Raffaella found a potential sponsor after searching for a year, the situation got worse.

“That’s when the nightmare started,” she says raising her voice.

“He promised me the sponsorship, but he actually exploited me for three months!”

During that period, she was at the mercy of her future employer, who eventually did not pay her. In fact, several Australian job seekers hoping to get and fill out the countless documents required for the 457 sponsorship Visa, face a big risk of exploitation in terms of wages and conditions.

“The sponsor is only bound to pay your flight back home… and I didn’t have any energy to start over again,” Raffaella sighs.

But after two years of worry and confusion, Raffaella refused to give up.

“At the end, I was lucky to find immediately another sponsor…a trustworthy person,” she says with smiling eyes. “Now I got the permanent residency, and I feel like the struggle is over!”

Athletics an ‘elite’ sport

Athletics an ‘elite’ sport

The general decline in athletics participation  in Australia highlights the gap between “elite” and local levels.

“Door Knock” campaign targets Chapel St

“Door Knock” campaign targets Chapel St

Bicycle Network Victoria is rolling out its “Door Knock” campaign to reduce the risks of cyclists colliding with parked car doors by targeting hazardous locations such as Chapel St.

GLEN HUNTLY AND…

GLEN HUNTLY AND ORMOND RESIDENTS SCEPTICAL ABOUT MYKI

 

Despite its many glitches, myki’s replacement of Metcard tickets  is on. Glen Huntly and Ormond respond sceptically to the ongoing transition.