maybe you don't need to move to australia
advice to my 24 year old self
At the beginning of 2020, I did one of the most quarterlife crisis things one can do in their 20sâI quit my job and moved to Australia. Like many of my peers, I was excited to start a new life, make some Australian dollars, and have an adventure of a lifetime. Little did I know that a decade-defining event was about to make my working holiday⌠interesting, to say the least.
Iâm well aware that I played Australia on extra hard mode and got to experience one of the shittiest versions of living down under. I arrived in the beginning stages of the pandemic, got stuck in lockdown in Perth, unable to move around and meet people due to restrictions and border closures. Later on, I struggled to find and keep jobs, and got into a toxic relationship with a drug dealer (that part is completely on me).
If you decide to do a working holiday in Australia now, it probably wonât be this intense.
But, similar to work exchanges, there are enough people online painting Australia as the best place in the entire world and an easily achievable way to solve all problems one might have. Iâm not in the business of invalidating anyoneâs experience just because it was different from mine.
Iâm here to showcase the nuance of Australian living and point out the parts that donât get talked about enough. Stuff that someone whoâs considering the move might want to hear before touching down in âStraya, mate.
For full disclosure, much of this article is based on my own experience and observations. I ended up living in Perth for a bit over a year, and spent some time in Sydney towards the end of my stay as restrictions loosened. I have visited some other parts of the country previously as a tourist, but please beware that I have a huge Perth bias. That being said, I do believe that most of the country is more similar to Perth than to real cities like Sydney or Melbourne.
you can make money, butâŚ
âŚitâs not as easy as it seems
One of the reasons I took the leap was the promise of big money. And I know for a fact that Iâm not alone in that sentiment. So yes, the wages are higher than in most places. Yes, I made more hourly as a waitress than I did in a white-collar job in Prague. But unless youâre a very specific type of person, the money wonât come that easily.
Now, this might not apply if youâre coming over on a different visa or with a particular skill. But as a regular working holiday maker, your employment options are down to a few: hospitality, childcare, any sort of manual labor, farming. If you want to extend your visa, farm or regional work canât be avoided, although the rules have been somewhat relaxed in recent years.
I never tried to do my 88 days to begin with, but the testimonies from people Iâve met vary a lot. I knew a girl who made $30 per row on a strawberry farm (which is illegal but still common), as well as someone who was able to save a small fortune by working with solar panels for 50 per hour with free accommodation.
But hereâs the catch: âfree accommodationâ usually means âliving in the middle of nowhereâ, so while working these regional jobs, youâll have no life outside of work. Same with the coveted FIFO (fly-in-fly-out, usually mining or oil) jobsâwhile on site, the outside world might as well not exist, definitely not the work-life balance people move to Australia for. Unlike strawberry picking, these positions are also highly sought after among Aussies, so thereâs tons of competition.
Most of my IRL work in Aus was as a waitress, and although I donât mind waiting tables, it wasnât the cute little cafĂŠ job social media would promise you.
What made my work unbearable at times were the venue owners and managers who thought it was OK to treat foreign workers like disposable trash. Also, unlike back home, where hospitality jobs usually train you, in Aus you need to come prepared. Forget being a barista unless youâre already a latte art pro, or a bartender if you donât have extensive cocktail experience. And no, nobody cares whether you were a Senior Tech Operations Manager back in your home country (I wasnât, but still.)
Another thing I struggled with constantly was getting enough work to make a living. Working on a casual contractâand most jobs available to backpackers are casualâmeans a higher hourly wage but no benefits or hours/income guarantee. Your boss can easily cancel on you last minute or send you home whenever business is slow.
People then have to juggle two or three jobs to secure enough hours and make a full-time-ish wage. To me, that was extremely stressful, and the constant income insecurity wasnât really conducive to living my best Aussie life.
the beaches are nice, butâŚ
âŚare you a millionaire?
I might have gotten unlucky, but even in Perth, I could only dream of living anywhere near the beach. In reality, I was probably at least an hour away from the closest beach at all times (thanks, urban sprawl), going there was a full-day endeavour, and the days I actually spent on the beach ended up totaling to a surprisingly low number.
I keep seeing content from people coming to Australia with no job, no connections, and moving into houses in Bondi or Cottesloe in the midst of a housing crisis (which has only gotten worse since I left Australia). Iâm always baffled as to how they managed to be selected for those places and how they pay for them.
The beach life portrayed on socials is not the typical Aussie life. Itâs an aesthetic reserved for those who can afford to sustain it. As a regular person, youâre far more likely to be living in a shitty cul-de-sac than the beachfront.
From my experience, the beach is also something foreigners enjoy way more than most born and bred Aussies. If youâd like to know why, I recommend a glance at one of the shark report sites.
aussies are laid back, butâŚ
âŚdo you know any?
As a white blonde Slavic woman, I never experienced much prejudice out in the world, at least not in an overt way. That was, until I came to Australia. Too white to be considered an immigrant and too different to be a âbackpackerâ (in Australia, WHV holders are collectively referred to as backpackers, and yes, itâs slightly pejorative), I must have come for a secret third reason. It was implied to me several times that the reason was believed to be sex work. Sigh.
However, thatâs still nothing compared to how large portions of the original inhabitants of the continent are treated by both individuals and the system as a whole.
Why are these issues not discussed more in the WHV community? Most backpackers exist almost exclusively within their own bubbles, only ever interacting with actual Australians by pure chance. They work immigrant-dominated jobs, live together in hostels and sharehouses, and make friends with people from their own countries.
My experience ended up being the complete opposite. The pandemic locked me indoors, so I didnât get to mingle with other backpackers much. My subsequent relationship then led me to spend most of my time around Perth locals.
Sure, living in a traphouse with a bunch of more or less criminally active highschool dropouts was a choice I only have myself to blame for, and expecting those people to be the beacons of progressive ideals would be foolish. But the amount of ignorance, xenophobia, conspiracy theories, and sometimes just sheer stupidity I got to witness definitely skewed my view of the âchilled-out Aussieâ stereotype.
The country is often praised as the antidote to hustle culture, a place where everyone can make money easily, have a work-life balance, and where people donât live for their jobs. That part is true, and, especially if youâre coming from a place of corporate burnout, itâs refreshingâuntil you realize what the other side of that coin looks like.
The way I see it, Australia is a place that largely doesnât value education. Why go to school when you can go to the mines and make absolute bank? Also synonymous with the country is the âtall poppy syndromeâ, where exceptional individuals are âcut down to sizeâ by a system that promotes conformity and not trying too hard.
The result? People have houses, cars, boats and jetskis but lack knowledge about the outside world or the ability to move a conversation beyond small talk. Of course, there are also wonderful, brilliant, tolerant Aussies. But they are unfortunately living in a place that fails to reward that.
the lifestyle is different, butâŚ
âŚis it for you?
The life you want to live is a matter of personal preference, but living in Australia only made me realize how cartoonishly European I actually am.
When I first arrived in Perth, I went for a walk around the CBD and knew immediately that place wasnât for me. Despite it being a regular workday, the streets of whatâs supposed to be the city center were totally empty. I felt like I had entered a simulation.
The entire day shifts forward the moment you step on Australian soil. At 6 AM, people are already out and about. At 2-3 PM, cafĂŠs close. At 5 PM, most stores, supermarkets, and even big malls close. At 7 PM, the day is over, and thereâs nothing left to do besides drinkingâbut not until too late, of course. In Perth at least, thereâs also a lack of cultural events and in the winter, the entire city pretty much goes to sleep.
Car dependency was another huge issue for me, because, uh, I donât drive. Unless you live in one of the more happening areas, you need a car to buy groceries, get to work, go to the beach, or do anything at all. The public transport that does exist then oftentimes feels a bit unsafe.
After moving into the suburbs with my ex, car dependency became partner dependency, something I never meant to sign up for.
The Australian lifestyle is ideal for many people; thereâs no doubt about that. But it isnât for everyoneâand it wasnât for me.
the weather is sunny, butâŚ
âŚenjoy at your own risk
Warm weather is one of the main pulls of Australia, especially for us Europeans used to dark skies and icy winters. But warmer doesnât necessarily mean better. If youâre not too concerned about climate change already, Iâd recommend spending some time in Oz and really letting the doom kick in.
Australian weather can only be described as extreme. While the winters are mild (more about that in a sec), the summers are beyond scorching hot in most parts of the country. My Christmas Day in Perth was 42°C, go a bit further up north and it gets closer to 50. Not only do these temperatures make outdoor activities near impossible, they also cause the increasingly common bushfires. Iâve experienced ash falling from the sky as the house I was living in stood just outside the mandatory evacuation area.
Mild winters, like in many other parts of the world, mean absolutely no cold management. No central heating, no house insulation. The temperatures dropped as low as 4°C in Perth in the winter, and all I had to keep warm was one crappy electric heater that wasnât cutting it.
To add to the list, the Australian sun is also infamously responsible for lots of skin cancer (Australia has the highest rate in the world), and shouldnât be taken lightly.
small beach towns are cute, butâŚ
⌠you better not need anything
âThe cities are no goodâ, people will say. âYou have to get out to the countryside to experience the real Australia!â
Living like Youngbloods in a small remote beach town sounds like THE ultimate Aussie dreamâuntil you have a medical emergency.
People underestimate the sheer remoteness of the Australian outback and the lack of access to literally anything, from transport to medical care to things like gyms or hairdressers. Itâs paradise on earth, as long as youâre willing to live a very basic life, are healthy, and donât need anything in particular. Oh, and you also better have a lot of money. Supplying these remote places by road trains ainât cheap.
Speaking of medical care, unless youâre British, youâre not eligible for Australian Medicare as a WHV holder. You need travel insurance to get your visa approved, but that usually only covers bills over a certain amount or emergencies. Every trip to the doctor, I had to pay out of pocket and never saw any of that money back, adding a layer of medical anxiety on top of everything I described above.
Most of us carry some kind of pandemic-related trauma, and Australia happens to be mine.
The country still has a special place in my heart and I would absolutely revisit one day. It has a kind of magic that pulls you in and stays with you long after you leave. I donât regret moving there or riding out the pandemic in Perth, and Iâll always be grateful for the memories I managed to make. To be honest, Iâve never felt as young and free as I did during that year.
At the same time though, itâs not a place Iâd ever want to call home again. Maybe everything I went through tainted my vision forever. Maybe Iâm too European, too much of a city girl, not meant to be living a life so different from my default. I may be just a hater, bitter for not getting the chance to live the Australian dream to the fullest. Living in Australia was an experience Iâm glad I had, but one I have no desire to repeat.
And if youâre toying with the idea of a working holiday down under yourself, at least now you know what you might find there besides sun and spiders.
And in case thatâs what youâre still waiting to hear aboutâthe spiders werenât even that bad.
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fialka
youâre just so good at writing articles honestly
Iâm an east coast Aussie and everything youâve said is ON POINT!!!!
Good on your for surviving PerthâŚ. I only lasted 6 months before I left. Australiaâs worst city for sure!!! And the Perth localsâŚ. You hit the nail on the head.