The walk to work in the mornings is one of the highlights of my day. I set out just as the sun is beginning to make its way above the horizon. I can still see the stars and moon above, though there is a paleness to the sky as the sun begins to wash away the dark of night. It takes just under fifteen minutes to walk to the train station, and the neighbourhood is all a-hush. Twilight is my favourite time of day, and though I am more familiar with evening twilight, I discover the light of the dawn to be equally enchanting. It has a different feeling of course; the world is about to wake up, become bright and busy, instead of go to sleep under the soft sparkling blanket of the night sky. But that in-between space between day and night is the same, and it takes my breath away.

I walk through the park on my way, over a small dark creek that shines in this half-light, masking its brown city murk. The long, muted-green leaves of the eucalyptus trees create a canopy and their smooth silver trunks curve gracefully below. Ethereal fans of water spray out over the cricket ground, protecting its bright green grass from drought. I can smell that the field has been recently mown.

By now the orange glow in the east behind me has begun to creep higher. I cast my head backwards a few times to catch a glimpse, but move quickly through the brisk morning until I reach my destination. To do so I must cross a pedestrian overpass of an eight-lane freeway. It feels like crossing over some molten river of lava—frightening but fascinating. Sometimes, though, I can’t bear to look down, and simply cross with my gaze up and the rush in my ears.

Just on the other side sits the station. Sometimes as I descend to platform one I can see a small flock of brightly coloured hot air balloons in the west, that has risen to catch the glorious waking of the sun. The dawn has been very glorious indeed on my morning commute thus far. I usually arrive five minutes early for my train and I sit on a bench looking east, calmed and buoyed by the magnificent pinks and oranges and the brilliant glow added to the sky by the sun just out of sight. I feel calm, at peace, inspired.

Then I go to work.

I am grateful to have found temporary work, though it is not always an easy job. I have landed the title of production assistant at a raw vegan chocolate factory that does very well, and produces a lot of very delicious chocolate. Which translates to extremely busy, rushed and noisy days in the factory, and I have left each shift with a very achy back, sometimes a headache. But I have a job, and given I can only work six months at any one place of employment on my current visa*, I would not really wanted to have landed my dream job in the first half of this year anyway.

Production starts early, and as a natural night owl, I am seeing more of the dawn than I have in a quite a few months (Spain is a country perfect for night owls in its late dining and living rhythms, so I did not see all that many sunrises in the past year).

I have been in Australia two months now and fall is in the air. I do not yet feel settled. We do not have a place of our own, and I have found my new job somewhat challenging. And a recent bout of homesickness has hit me hard. But on those beautiful morning walks, with the sky and the leaves and the fresh, brisk air, I am at peace.

*I currently have a Working Holiday Visa which permits the holder to work in Australia for one year, on the condition that no job last for more than six months with one employer (unlike the Canadian Working Holiday Visa which allows two years and permits holders to work at any job for as long as they like during that time). For more information on the costly and wily ways of Australian Immigration, see my post: Australian Immigration Throws a Curve-ball