Livin' la Vida Local (or To Tree or not to Tree, that is the question...)

As I sit here in a typical food court, in a typical capital city, watching the endless array of humanity bustling past, revelling in my anonymity and my rather exotic Japanese lunch, I have taken a moment to reflect on one of life’s little con jobs – the Tree Change!

This particular rant has its beginnings some three years ago, but more immediately brought on by my darling wife arriving home last night, to tell me that a friend of hers had confided a deep desire to embark on a tree change. This married mother of two, living well in a nice Brisbane suburb, kids happily ensconced in the local educational facility, she and hubby working non-stressful jobs that pay well, this capital city propertied middle class lady, was seriously considering chucking it all away to chase a rural idyll of a country homestead, a veggie patch, some curious chooks, and the life of a country lady. Advice to wife…tell said friend she is mad! Crazy! Bonkers!

This sort of rural idyll is the one promoted by the always and typically horsey looking  (as in the ride them, not look like them!) female editors of glossy magazines devoted to articles extolling the virtues of “My life in the country..”. A word of caution re these puffed up profiteroles that profit from the dreams of the somehow inferior and downtrodden city dweller – they exist to make advertising revenue! Look at the back pages. Ads everywhere. Skim through the rag – ads everywhere. Ads for country knits jumpers and styles that you wouldn’t really wear, not even at the local country show unless you wanted to look like a complete city try hard. Read the articles, and read between the lines. Who are they aimed at really? How many husbands and fathers get more than a passing mention? How many have moved from the Sydney north shore with a bucket full of cash and a transportable high income, and yes, high pressure job that follows to support the “lifestyle”? ‘Judith, and her husband, a Sydney architect…’ Does the husband get a name or a photo in the spread. No way. He is at work. Same old stuff, different scenery, with some added chores for hubby for good measure. A life of rustic charm, worthy of a film or book deal? Making cheese with the locals, and enjoying a glass of the regional red on the ol’ verandah of the ol’ homestead? Sound enticing? Think again….

Think again, and again, and again. And think carefully. Just what are you going to do in this rural idyll? What are the social indicators? “The what?”, the social indicators will show you what sort of place it is to live in. What is the unemployment like? What do people do? The level of education up to your standard or are you happy to spend the day talking about the weather and the price of apples? How about the schools for the kids? Is there a high school? Visited My School and checked it out? And how far away from a good tertiary education are you? Happy to stay at home without the kids while they go to University or TAFE or College? You sitting in the big ol’ house, doing all the chores, feeding the kids chooks, tending the veggie garden, wandering past the empty bedrooms while the twenty somethings are back in the city, dumbfounded as to why you could possible have left all the action in the first place? Like a latte? So where are you going to go to get one, and are you going to be able to enjoy it without someone recognising you and trying to pin you down about this or that or whatever. Think hard and long….no such thing as anonymity in a country town! It is like an episode of Home and Away with a much worse looking cast…

Think about how it will be when the gloss wears off, when the same old routine creeps back in - “same stuff, different scenery”. Yes, it is great to get away, yes it is nice to see new places and cultures, even in your own back yard, but it is nice to get home too.

Perhaps it might be best to keep the rural idyll in its place. Maybe you can tweak your current existence to find what it is you’re trying to chase anyway.

You want to wander the pretty garden to the sound of your very own clucking inquisitive chooks? So get gardening and get some chooks! The home grown veggies from your very own veggie patch? Get on with it then!. A slow down to a more relaxed lifestyle? Ahhh, that’s what it is all about really isn’t it? Well, do it. What makes anyone think it is going to be easier by uprooting the family and moving to a regional outpost, as pretty and picturesque as it might be for a one week holiday, is beyond reason. Negotiate more flexible working hours. Change your job. Make a decision to spend more time with your kids. Think about it long and hard. If you don’t like the idea of looking after chooks, and putting in the hard work a decent veggie garden takes in your suburban block, what makes you think it is going to be any easier in the sticks, ‘cause it won’t be.

And if you still think you want to give it a go, remember this, once you are out of the city, cashed up or not, you will not, not ‘might not’, but WILL not be able to buy back into the type of inner suburban block you might be in now. City prices rise and rise and rise, bubble or no. Regional prices can drop like a rock at the whiff of a drought, bushfire or a downturn in the commodity prices. A downturn in the what? Commodity prices – get used to talking about them. Regional communities exist on the back of regional industries, that is, commodities, and people talk about them as if there livelihood depends on it, because it does. Yours might not but theirs will. Can you handle the groundhog day of conversing with the neighbours about the price of stone fruit at the same time of the year, year after year after year? Maybe take six months off and rent your place out and try before you buy. Really try though. Be a critical thinker and don’t be blinded by the sunset over the mountains. Maybe look into an investment holiday house in your little piece of paradise. If it isn’t worth investing there, you are thinking of investing yourself there because…..?