To me, being Australian always meant more than to live in the country itself.

It meant the rich diversity, it meant the four wondrous seasons and it meant the love that is spread from coast to coast. Being a migrant from Cambodia, I felt as if I didn’t fit in. My skin colour was different, I didn’t speak a word of English and I didn’t understand the fuss over a game that had an odd shaped red ball. Everything was so strange. I remember all throughout school, singing the national anthem. It didn’t mean much to me as a child, but the more I was engaged into the community, the more I understood how privileged I was to call myself an Australian and also call it my home. I was more interested in the world around me as I grew up and I emerged myself into the culture.

The game that had the odd shaped red ball, also known as football, became something that I enjoyed watching on television and live with all my football fanatic crazed friends. Gobbling up meat pies and washing it down with a good old slurpee after the match became a habit too. It became sort of a usual routine to catch up with great people and enjoy the spirit at an Aussie game. I remember the first time I watched a match. The crowd was wild – up on their feet every few minutes, yelling and cheering their team on. I had never seen something like that before. But by the second quarter of the game, I was also up on my feet cheering. I wasn’t quite sure whom I barracked for at that point, but the excitement of it all overwhelmed me and I felt extremely happy to be apart of such an incredible nation.

Being in a community with a multitude of ethnicities, it was easy to make friends.

Walking around the neighbourhood on warm summer afternoons was able to explain it all. You could smell the aromas of the world just walking down the street. There was the smell of curry in the corner, lasagna next door, stir fry down the road, a BBQ out the front yard across from our place and Cambodian noodles at ours. All the kids in the neighbourhood went to the local school, so we all looked out for each other and walked home together. It didn’t matter what race we were or what background we came from.

I remember one evening, we all took a bus and walked along the beach. The water was just right and there were no clouds in the sky. The view was breathtaking. As the sun was setting, the city skyline was dimly seen in the distant. Families brushed off the last particles of sand on their t-shirts and gathered up their eskies to leave. Lifeguards packed up their gear and took down the flags. I can remember just standing there with all my friends and smiling to them, because I was so happy to call this beautiful place, Melbourne my home.